Imperial Armor
by Saoirse Driscoll
Summary: It was a simple quest. Find an old man in Riften. Unfortunately the locals are less than forthcoming and somehow the Dragonborn got tied up in the Thieves Guild - exactly as Brynjolf wanted. F!Dragonborn/Brynjolf
1. The Riften Market

There hadn't been many travellers into Riften as of late. Rumblings of the civil war between the Stormcloaks and Imperials had made all of Skyrim nervous, and now the talk of dragons had sent the decent folk scuttling back into their homes.

_Milk drinkers._ Brynjolf sighed, reclining against the side of his stall in the Riften market, green eyes sharp as he surveyed the merchants at their stalls. From his vantage point he was able to see and hear almost everything in the market, as well as keep an eye on the guards. Just because they were in Maven's pocket didn't mean they'd always look the other way.

Today was the noisiest the market had been in a while. Merchants were all but falling over themselves to catch the attention of the newcomer, each unabashedly calling out to an Imperial woman who just come in the front gate scant minutes before, trying to tempt her with talk of the best wares in Skyrim. He snorted. If they were really the best, they'd already been in the guild vault below the city. Still, she seemed nonplussed by the attention she was receiving, patiently haggling with Grelka as the other woman became more irritated with the dark-haired Imperial. The Nord angrily threw some arrows down in front of the Imperial woman, who only shook her head. As she left the stall, Grelka shouted, "Come back when you learn how to spend money!"

Brynjolf looked away from her for a moment as Maul appeared at his left elbow. "Who is she?" he asked, jerking his chin towards the woman.

"No clue," responded Maul in a deep rumble. "She avoided paying the door tax and left the guard embarrassed to boot."

"Did she now?" Brynjolf chuckled. "Did she say where she was coming from?"

Maul shook his head. "Looks road weary though. She came in with a big brute of a Nord woman, decked out in plate armor holding a wicked axe. Went straight to the Bee and the Barb."

Brynjolf nodded and Maul headed back to his post by the gate. The Imperial had moved on to look at Medesi's stall, seemingly in deep conversation with the Argonian. After a while she nodded and stepped back from the stall, seemingly without purchasing anything. _Strange…_ A moment later her bright blue eyes were trained on him and he flashed her his signature smirk. He saw a near imperceivable lift at the corners of her mouth as she walked over to him.

"What do you sell?"

"Potions!" He replied with a ready grin and his usual heaping of bravado. "Falmer blood elixir."

Before he could continue his sales pitch she interrupted, incredulity clear in her voice and distaste clear on her face. "Falmer blood? As an elixir? What kind of properties would one of those foul creatures have?"

"The ancient Falmer were a strong, proud folk," Brynjolf started into his story, only to have her interrupt him again.

"And today they are twisted, vile brutes that skulk in darkness," she looked at him, eyes clear and face unguarded. _That's dangerous lass,_ he thought with an inward smirk. He carefully catalogued the fact that she seemed to know about the Falmer before turning his attention back to her.

"This phial contains a special mixture, straight from the mages in Winterhold," he noticed her look of disgust and quickly backpedaled. _Oblivion take her, what was with this lass?_

She shook her head, her long dark hair shining in the sunlight. "I'm sorry merchant, there's no way the blood of one of those creatures would be any use to anyone."

"So you're a master alchemist then?"

She blinked, clearly surprised by his light query. "No, not at all."

"Then how can you be so sure?" he challenged. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. He watched as she seemed to consider her options. Given her questions and derision of the phial he was selling, he knew she wasn't going to fall for his con. It was still worth a shot. Half of the con was the confidence.

"I think you're scamming people," she finally said, voice level but quiet.

"Oh aye lass? Is that so?" Despite the risk of being caught, or maybe because of it, his eyes sparkled with mischief matched in his tone.

"I do," she asserted. "I have a proposition for you."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. _Full of surprises this one._ "Is that so lass?"

"I won't tell the guards about your con if you give me some information."

Outwardly, he paused, acting as if he was considering her proposition. Inwardly, he was genuinely surprised by her. The lass was quick on her toes, something he hadn't been expecting from her honest appearance. If she managed to pass his test in the market, she might deserve a second look, and maybe even a spot in the guild. He took this moment to carefully look her over. She was lithe, favoured the bow if her near empty quiver and worn bow across her back was any indication. Plus she was a natural at negotiating. He pulled himself out of his thoughts turned his smile back on her, hiding his displeasure when she gave no visible reaction. "Alright lass, I'll play ball."

She nodded once, stiffly. "I'm looking for a man named Brynjolf."

He chuckled and gave a slight bow. "Pleasure to meet you lass."

She stood shocked for a moment, her surprise written clearly on her face. He grinned, pleased at the effect he had on her. She quickly shook it off. "Alright then. I was told you have information. I need to find Esbern."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there lass," he chided. "I'm not in the business of giving information away for free."

"But I-"

"I believe our agreement was that I tell you where Brynjolf was. I have," he smiled cheekily, enjoying watching her anger grow. "But you've got to be daft if you think I'm just going to give away information."

She was glaring daggers at him by this point. "Fine," she spat. "What do you want?"

"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need a pair of extra hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid."

She scoffed. "Your line of work? I know absolutely nothing about you and you want me to do something for you?"

"Aye lass, I do," he leaned back against his stall again.

"I'm not interested in your coin. I just want to find Esbern." She gave him a pleading look. He had to admit, if he wasn't a con man, he might have just given away the information.

"Let me find him first," she all but begged with those big doe eyes. "Dragons are bad for business."

"Passing on a golden opportunity is worse."

She gave a frustrated growl and he had to hold in a laugh. She was about to head away when he gently grabbed her arm. "And what about you? A worn out bow, no arrows, clearly just come off the road… and running a little light in your pockets if I'm right lass."

Her head whipped back around to face him and he knew he had her. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your pockets... They're a little low on coin. I can tell."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing," he sent a lascivious look down her body that was barely concealed by her hide armor, eliciting a noise of annoyance. "It's a dead giveaway."

"My wealth is **none **of your business," she protested hotly.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth **is **my business," he paused for effect. "Maybe you'd like a taste?"

"What do you have in mind?" She was suspicious, but he expected that.

"Like I said, I have an errand to perform. Your hands would be extremely useful," he winked at her, liking the rosy blush that blossomed across her cheeks.

"What do I have to do?"

He grinned wolfishly. "Simple. I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-shei's pocket without him noticing."

At first he thought she would protest at breaking the law, but she looked at him with confusion. "Why plant the ring on Brand-shei?"

_Maybe she would work out for the guild after all._ He looked her over carefully, weighing his next words. A misstep would surely send her running away.

"There's someone that wants to put him out of business permanently. That's all you need to know," he gave her a dark look intended to stop any further questions. "Now, you tell me when you're ready and we'll get started."

She looked at him quizzically. "Why are we doing this to Brand-shei?"

Brynjolf sighed. Her curiosity was going to be a problem, but she was likely going to be twice as stubborn if he tried to brush her off. "We've been contracted to make sure Brand-shei remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren't his own. Now, since we're not the Dark Brotherhood, we're not going to kill him, we're just going to make sure he sits in the prisons for a few days." He hoped that explanation would be enough to quiet her questions.

He waited expectantly, but she shook her head and stepped away. "I can't do this."

"If you don't help me, I won't help you lass. Simple as that." He could see the conflict written across her face. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

With a rueful smile he watched her sashay away, eyes on her ass all the way into the Bee and the Barb. Brynjolf caught her eye as she turned back to look at him and smirked at her. He was pleased to see the flush on her face again before she quickly disappeared indoors. Abandoning his stall, he sauntered over to where Sapphire was leaning against a railing.

"Brynjolf. What can I do for you?" she greeted him coolly.

"I need you to watch someone for me. Imperial lass, 'bout a head shorter than you. She's in the Bee and the Barb right now."

Sapphire quirked a brow. "The one who just came into town?"

"Aye. She's asking about Esbern. Make sure no one talks."

She nodded. "Yes boss."

Plan in motion, Brynjolf moved back to the market, a dangerous glint in his eyes. That Imperial woman would be back.


	2. Back Against the Wall

A/N: Thanks Kara Ashford for the review!

Ariana stormed into the Bee and Barb in a foul temper, opening the door so hard it ricocheted off the wall and nearly hit her in the face. _The absolute __**nerve **__of that man!_ The bartender looked up at the Imperial woman in surprise as she rushed up the stairs, but Ariana didn't stop to chat with the Argonian woman. She didn't want to talk to anyone, not even her housecarl.

"Hello my thane," Lydia, apparently, had other ideas.

Ariana growled. "Not now." The Nord woman drew back in surprise but closed her mouth, watching as Ariana began frantically rummaging through her pack.

"Where is it?" she muttered under her breath. "Where is it, where is it, where in Oblivion **is **it?!"

"My thane," Lydia interjected, startling Ariana enough to make her look up at her housecarl. "Is something wrong?"

Ariana sighed and slumped down onto the small bed. "No?" She paused. "Yes? Perhaps? … I don't know Lydia."

"What happened in the market, my thane?"

Ariana made a mental note to insist that Lydia call her by her name in future. "Well, the good news is I found Brynjolf."

"Excellent! And what did he have to say, my thane?"

"He…" Ariana rubbed her eyes with a hand. "He was less than helpful." Neither of them spoke for a moment, and when Ariana looked up, she realized that Lydia was waiting for her to explain. "He told me the only way he was going to help me was if I 'assisted' him in his 'business'."

Lydia was still confused. "What do you mean, my thane?"

"He wants me to help him steal from a merchant in the market to frame another one," Ariana said bluntly.

Ariana could hear Lydia's hiss at the mention of breaking the law. "My thane, you can't be considering -"

"Of course not Lydia!" _And even if I was, I wouldn't tell you._ "There has to be someone else around this city who knows about Esbern. It's just a matter of finding them." Ariana watched as Lydia visibly relaxed, forcing away memories made bitter by her housecarl's staunch morality. _I wonder what she would say if she knew…_ Ariana shook her head. Musing could wait.

"So where do we start my thane?"

"We?" Ariana looked at her housecarl with pointed disapproval. "Oh no, you are not coming with me."

"But my thane!"

Ariana narrowed her eyes. "No. Not after that wound from the Drauger. You are going to stay here and get better. Besides, I work better alone." Lydia grumbled in resentment, but Ariana knew she was duty bound to honor her thane's commands.

The Imperial stood up to continue going through her pack, sending a side look towards the Nord, slumped over with defeat. She felt a pang of guilt, turning words over in her head before breaking the silence. "I know you want to come to protect me. But I can't have you following along behind me, calling me your thane. I'll never get these people to talk to me if they knew who I was."

Lydia nodded slowly, but did not straighten. "Don't worry Lydia. We'll be out of here by tomorrow."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

They had not left by the next day. Or the one after that. Or even the one after that. The longer they stayed in Riften, the more frustrated Ariana grew. She **knew **someone here knew about Esbern's whereabouts, but there were no leads. With a grunt she pushed herself away from the bar at the Bee and the Barb, nodding to Keerava, the Argonian innkeeper, as she left.

Keerava had been nice, pointing Ariana towards a couple of people who she said might know a bit more about what happens down in the Ratways. The only problem was reaching those people. Ariana's face dropped into a scowl as she remembered the scene down in the Ragged Flagon, the bouncer who refused her admittance despite her cries about a friend in danger.

That had been the first day she had gone down there. On the second she had tried to fight him. She had lost. Badly. And he had the nerve to laugh at her afterwards. She moved a hand to gingerly touch her cheek. At least the bruising had gone down.

As she stepped out into the market, she was immediately greeted by a pair of emerald eyes. Trying to curb her irritation, she moved to pass him by without further incident.

Brynjolf clearly had other plans.

"What happened to your face there, lass?" He called from his stall. Ariana stopped short, gritting her teeth and clenching fists. It only took a split second for her to regain her composure, and turned to Brynjolf with a smile.

"Brynjolf! So good to see you this morning," she oozed charm. He seemed unaffected. _Thrice cursed Nord!_ "How's business?"

"Good, business is good. Could be better though," he replied in a lazy drawl. How she hated that smug arrogance.

She glared daggers at him. "Not a chance, _**merchant**_." He merely laughed.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf watched with interest as she stalked off. _Have to talk to Dirge about that bruise._ He had meant for her to be dissuaded from entering the Ragged Flagon, not beaten. Still, she was proving to be stubborn. He had thought she'd come back to see him the next day. He could hear her coin purse as she walked by him, and he knew it was much slimmer than it had been when she arrived. He had heard she was taking odd jobs around Riften just to try to make a bit of coin.

He wasn't so lost in his thoughts that he missed the sudden appearance of the cold mannered, dark-haired Nord. "Maven," he said formally.

"Who is she?" The head of the Black Briars was straight to business, as per usual.

He shrugged. "Some adventurer. Came in a few days ago, looking for someone named Esbern."

"Hm," she responded. "Keep an eye on her. She was in Mistvale Keep speaking with the Jarl yesterday. I don't like how she's meddling in everyone's affairs."

Brynjolf nodded and Maven disappeared back into her meadery. He hadn't taken his eyes off the Imperial woman since she stepped foot out of the Bee and Barb, watching as she spoke with each merchant in turn, not purchasing anything. As each day passed he found himself increasingly curious about the traveler. Though she had a worn bow and a near empty quiver on her back, she wore an enchanted circlet on her head with an amulet of Talos clearly visible around her neck. Brynjolf shook his head, mystified. For a poor adventurer, she certainly had some interesting trinkets. Where had she come from, and why was she so interested in finding an old man? It struck him suddenly that he didn't even know her name.

Moments later she was standing in front of his stall again, looking tired. "Is there no way to convince you to tell me where Esbern is?"

He crossed his arms. "You know my terms lass. You help me with my errand, I'll let you know where the old man is."

She sighed and turned away, heading back into the inn. He wondered how long it would be until she gave in.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

As the sun began to sink below the mountains, Ariana sent her hoe into the ground with a resounding thwack. She wiped her brow before picking up the tool and setting it against the wall of the Merryfair Farm. Working on the farm wasn't ideal, but it gave Ariana some much needed Septims. Surprisingly she found it relaxing to be working in the dirt again. She hadn't been on a farm since she left Cyrodiil.

She passed Synda Llanith on her way back to Riften and collected the gold for her work. Putting the coins into her pouch, Ariana took the dusty road back to the city, weariness settling in her bones. It was strange to have this kind of normalcy in her life. The last few months since Helgen had been a mess of exploration and fighting, with a few dragon souls thrown in to keep anything from getting too easy for her.

The guards nodded to her as she walked through the main gate and she traced the now familiar route to the inn. It was closing in on a week, and had been well over two since she had left Delphine in Riverwood. Every day she heard more talk of dragons being sighted by travelers and every day she grew more frustrated and impatient. If it was her duty, her destiny to save the world, what use was she if she was stuck in Riften?!

Night was falling quickly, and the market was all but deserted. Surprisingly, the red haired Nord who was the center of her vexation was still standing at his stall, talking to a shady looking man dressed head to foot in brown leather. Ariana couldn't see the man's face under his deep hood, so she dropped down into a sneak to try to get a better view without alerting them to her presence.

She skirted the edge of the inn, staying close to the wall and below the short stone wall that separated the market from the rest of the city. Carefully she moved around the corner of the inn, heart in her throat as she watched the two men talking only a few feet away from where she stood in the shadows. Neither seemed to notice her, so she moved closer, trying to hear what they were discussing. Ariana rested a hand against the cool stone wall, ducking lower to stay out of sight of a guard passing by. The two men turned to look at the guard as she passed, confirming Ariana's suspicions about their conversation. The distraction proved a perfect opportunity for her to move into a position where she could hear them.

"Talk to Vex, she knows the place well. Now hurry, I've got things to do," spoke Brynjolf in a hushed tone.

The other man chuckled. "Would those things include the pretty Imperial woman who came in this week?"

"She could be a useful addition to the guild," Brynjolf said sharply. Ariana would bet a few Septims that Brynjolf was glaring at the other man.

"Hey, there are other ways to _persuade_ a woman Bryn," spoke the other man. His lewd tone made Ariana want to punch him.

"Get lost, Vipir." The dismissal was more amused than annoyed. Ariana heard the quiet footfalls moving away and nearly jumped when Brynjolf spoke again. "Alright lass, come on out."

Ariana stood up slowly, trying for all the world not to look guilty.

"Hear anything interesting?" he asked, a smile playing across his lips.

She glared at him. "Nothing in particular. Except that your friend seems to think you should bed me."

He chuckled. "And should I?"

"Not interested," Ariana flatly replied. She rested her hands on the top of the wall and leaned forward, trying to take another angle. "Look, Brynjolf…"

"If this has to do with Esbern, you know where I stand," he cut her off, all business again.

Ariana growled in frustration. "For Mara's sake Brynjolf! There are dragons on the loose, people are **dying**, and this man may be the only person who knows how to stop it!"

"That's a nice story lass, but you're not going to move me with it."

She threw her hands in the air in aggravation. "You are impossible! This affects everyone you s'wit!"

He just seemed amused by her irritation. "Look, lass - what's your name?"

She stopped, taken aback by his sudden change of topic. "Ariana."

"Right. Look, Ariana lass, I told you how you'll be getting this information from me. It's not a hard task and if you're worried about getting caught, you don't need worry, I'll take care of the guards for you."

"Have you not considered my _reluctance _to assist you has **nothing **to do with fear of repercussion and **everything **to do with my hatred of thieving?!" she spat bitterly.

He shrugged. "All the same, you're the one who's holding yourself back here lass. You could make this very easy."

"Right. Because stealing from one merchant and framing another is easy." Ariana rolled her eyes.

"You're a fair sneak lass. I'm sure Vipir had no idea you were standing there," Brynjolf said with a wink. She glared at him again. "Now, if you're any good with those lockpicks you keep hidden in your armor-"

"How did you know about that?" she exclaimed in surprise.

Brynjolf chuckled. "Like I said lass, it's all about knowing your mark."

She pushed away from the wall, crossing her arms. They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment. He seemed amused while all she wanted to do was reach over and shake him. "Fetcher," she finally said, voice full of derision.

Ariana turned to walk into the Bee and the Barb, fuming. She had only gone a few steps when a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, pushing her back into the inn wall. She made a sound of surprise and looked up into Brynjolf's eyes. _He's too close._ He had his arms on either side of her shoulders, effectively pinning her in place.

"Look lass, it's simple," he said quietly. His soft accented voice was making her knees buckle and she inwardly cursed. _You're supposed to be mad at him, not attracted to him!_

"You need my help, I need your help. I'm sure we can find a," he paused, looking down her body and back up to her lips, "mutually agreeable outcome here."

Ariana whetted her lips nervously. "I told you I don't want to be a thief," she protested, hoping she didn't sound as weak as she felt.

"Aye, you said that lass." He brushed a stray strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. This simple act sent a flaming blush across her cheeks and she knew he'd have to be blind to miss the effect he was having on her. The Divines must have been feeling generous because he didn't mention it. "But there's a difference between wants and needs."

She swallowed hard, finding herself at a loss for words.

"So here's my proposition lass," he continued, emerald eyes boring into her blue ones. "You help me with my errand - something that should be fairly easy for you. And then, when the job is done, you'll get your information."

"I-"

"Do you really have any other option at this point lass? Like you said, people are dying while you're just sitting around here."

Ariana slumped back against the wall. She really didn't have any other options. She had been looking for nearly a week and no one could tell her anything. She looked back up to Brynjolf to see that smug grin back on his face. _He planned this! I told him too much and the fetcher planned this!_

"Bastard," she whispered, looking down at the ground.

"I'll take that as a yes." She could hear the grin in his words, the self-satisfied victory apparent in every letter. "I'll see you at the market tomorrow lass, bright and early."

She expected him to move away now that he had won and she let out a squeak when she felt his breath fan against her ear. She shivered involuntarily and her mind went blank.

"It was a good game though lass. Seems like Vipir was right about persuading you though." With one final dark chuckle, Brynjolf left. Ariana stood against the wall for a moment longer, eyes closed as she attempted to regain her composure. _That utter __**bastard**__._


	3. A Rat in the Maze

A/N: Thanks Kara Ashford for your lovely review!

There was no chirping of birds to greet the morning. Ariana had woken groggily as a ray of sunlight sliced into her eye. She grumbled as she climbed out of bed, hissing as her bare feet touched the cool wood floor. Lydia was still asleep, a small blessing to be sure. If she was lucky, her housecarl wouldn't wake until after Ariana had left.

Moving quietly over to her pack, Ariana pulled out plain blue dress with a brown corset and soft leather boots. Within moments she was dressed and down the stairs, stopping to talk to Keerava before heading out into the market, and grabbing a boiled creme treat that she ate as she left. She felt a slight pang of guilt at leaving Lydia sleeping like that, but she quickly pushed it away when she saw the red haired Nord standing at his stall.

"Brynjolf."

He looked her up and down. "You ready lass?"

She nodded. "As I'll ever be."

"Need me to go over anything?"

Ariana shook her head. "No, I think I've got it," she said. "Break into the safe, grab the ring, stick it in the pocket. Pretty straight forward."

"You're nervous." It wasn't so much an accusation as a fact.

She shrugged. "Never done something like this before." It wasn't exactly a lie.

The Nord gave her a level stare. Finally he spoke. "Don't worry, I'll be causing a distraction. No one will be looking your way."

"Let's just get this over with."

She walked over to the edge of the market beside Madesi's stall, leaning against the short stone wall. Catching eye contact with the red haired Nord, she sent him a subtle nod. Taking her signal he began his performance.

"Everyone! Everyone! Gather 'round. I have something to show you that demands your attention."

Despite some grumbles from Brand-shei, the entire marketplace moved over to stand around Brynjolf's stall, leaving theirs unguarded. Ariana shook her head. _Idiots_.

She could still hear his voice as she dropped down out of sight and snuck behind Madesi's stall, pulling out the lockpicks she had hidden away in her dress. Peeking out from behind the stall, Ariana saw that even the nearby guards had been drawn into Brynjolf's act. She shook her head with a slight smile. There was no denying it, he was good at what he did.

Opening the sliding door had been child's play, and the safe wasn't any more of a challenge. She quickly cleaned out the safe, knowing there was no way a thief would leave behind fifty septims and jewels while only taking a ring. Guilt sat heavily, like a stone in her stomach. _I'll buy something from him afterwards. _She closed the lockbox and slid the door shut.

She caught sight of Brand-shei across the market, sitting on a pile of boxes. Steeling herself, she crept around the crowd and slid between the boxes and the wall. Taking a few deep breaths, Ariana grabbed the ring and moved closer to her target. _Come on, you can do this!_

Carefully she slid the ring into the dunmer's pocket, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Stealing was the easy part. Pickpocketing always left her hands clammy and pulse racing. Ariana breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she pulled her hand away, ring safely in Brand-shei's pocket. She slowly stepped away, walking around the outside of the market. Again she made eye contact with Brynjolf, giving him another nod.

"Well, I see that my time is up! Come back tomorrow if you wish to buy."

Ariana waited until the crowd dispersed before heading back to Brynjolf's stall. "Done and done," she said without emotion.

He gave her a small smile. "Looks like I chose the right person for the job. And here you go… your payment, just as I promised." Ariana glared at him, but took the septims regardless.

"The way things have been going around here, it's a relief that our plan went off without a hitch."

"What's been going on?" Ariana was curious despite her instincts screaming that this man was trouble.

"Bah," he spat. "My organization's been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that. You did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there's more where that came from… if you think you can handle it."

She look at him suspiciously. There was something else to this, more than just bad luck. "And the information?" she pressed.

"The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften… a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. I believe you know of it?" His eyes twinkled mischieviously.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the place," she said stiffly. She did not like being the butt of his joke.

"Get there in one piece and you'll have your information."

"That wasn't part of the deal!" She all but yelled. A few people turned their heads to look at the two of them and Ariana struggled to control her anger. "You said I help you with this errand and you'd tell me where he was."

Brynjolf just smiled, seemingly amused by her annoyance. "I'll tell you lass, but not here. We do this on my terms."

Beneath his cordial tone was a steely threat. It was clear that the thief didn't trust her. "Fine," she spat. "Your terms, on your ground, in the Flagon. But if you betray me -"

"Stow the bluster lass. You couldn't frighten a flea."

"We'll see how frightening I am from the other end of my blade," she growled. He only laughed.

She grit her teeth and turned on her heel and stomping away from the market. "I'll see you at nightfall," she called back, albeit reluctantly. Hopefully, that would give her enough time to take care of the dragon that had been sighted to the north near Shor's Stone. Perhaps the fighting would even help her cool off. _Infuriating Nord! _

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

"Lydia!" Ariana cried out as the frost dragon snapped up her housecarl in its mouth, shaking her around and tossing her away like a rag doll. "**FUS RO DAH!**" The Imperial Shouted, staggering the dragon as she continued to pepper it with arrows. With a roar, the dragon took to the skies again, giving Ariana time to run to Lydia's side.

The Nord woman was still breathing, but was bleeding heavily. Looking up nervously, Ariana put away her bow and readied a healing spell. Pressing her hands to Lydia's body, the golden light slowed the bleeding and Lydia gasped, pushing herself up.

"A healing spell? Are you a priest?" the Nord asked in wonder.

Ariana shook her head. "Just practical. Can you stand?"

"Yes, my thane."

"Then let's kill this dragon."

Ariana stumbled as the dragon landed with a thump a few feet from them. With a war cry, Lydia charged toward the creature, the Axe of Whiterun raised above her head. The Imperial pulled out her bow and distracted the dragon, giving Lydia a chance to get a few good hits in on its scaly hide.

As the dragon drew back to let out another breath of frost, Ariana Shouted again, giving her just enough time to send an arrow flying through its eye. It screamed in pain, throwing Lydia away with a wing. Ariana pulled her bowstring taunt, breathed a prayer to Talos and let the arrow go. It flew straight and true, punching through the dragon's scaly hide and piercing the heart. With one final cry, it fell to the ground, motionless. The wind picked up and ancient words filled her ears as Ariana watched the dragon disintegrate in front of her eyes, absorbing golden light from its body into hers.

When the light died away, Ariana took a step back, reeling from the feeling of the dragon's soul added to hers. No matter how many dragons she killed, she was never going to get used to that feeling. It felt like hot water pouring over her body and filling her with sharp prickles, like running a thistle across her skin. Looking over, she saw Lydia leaning on her axe as she tried to stand up. Ariana rushed over to give her housecarl a hand.

"You alright?"

Lydia nodded, grimacing as she put weight on her right leg. Ariana shook her head at the stubborn Nord. "Let me help." Again the Imperial pressed her hands against the Nord, infusing the other woman with her healing magics. Magicka drained, her spell faded away, but Lydia looked much better.

"Come on, let's get back to Riften." A few Dragon bones and scales ought to make her purse a bit heavier.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf wasn't anxious. He wasn't anxious, or nervous and he certainly wasn't sitting on the edge of his seat, fervently listening for any sound of the door at the far end of the room to open.

After Ariana had left him in the market that morning, he had come down to the Cistern through the crypt behind the Temple of Mara. He had swiftly changed into his Guild armor and took a perch at the bar of the Ragged Flagon. Though she had said she would be back at nightfall, he wanted to make sure he was there in case she decided to show up earlier. Not that he was anxious, at all.

Around midday his vigil was interrupted by chaos in the Cistern. He hopped off his stool and headed through the secret entrance in the broom closet to find the source of the noise. As he walked into the Cistern he saw Etienne Rarnis being helped to his bed by Thrynn. The Breton was clearly ill, and much thinner than when he had left nearly three months prior on a job to Solitude.

"What happened to him?"

"Ask him yourself," Thrynn said. "He fell down the ladder on his way in. I'm going to see if we have any health potions left."

As Thrynn left, Brynjolf sat down on the side of Etienne's bed. "What happened to you? You were only supposed to gone for a week."

Etienne let out a weak laugh that turned into a hacking cough. "Thalmor. Fetchers grabbed me off the road outside Solitude as I was leaving."

"Shor's bones," Brynjolf breathed. "What did they want from you? The guards didn't send them, did they?"

Etienne shook his head sharply. "No. They dragged me up to their embassy in the mountains, demanding to know where 'Esbern' was hiding. I told them there were lots of old beggars in the Ratways. They… didn't care much for that." A shadow fell over his face and Brynjolf chose not to pry any further.

"How did you escape?"

"Some crazy Imperial woman broke in. She killed the interrogators just as they were starting torture me again," Etienne shuddered at the memory, but continued. "She asked me if I knew anything about Esbern and I told her the same thing I told the Thalmor - maybe Esbern was one of the old, crazy beggars hiding in the Ratway, but I didn't know. She… she undid my chains and placed a hand on my arm, healing me a little. She stopped when more Thalmor came in at the top of the stairs."

Etienne started coughing again and Brynjolf handed him a mug of water. The Breton grabbed it after he stopped coughing, taking a deep drink. "Thanks. I… I don't remember how she managed to kill them, it was over so fast. She spoke to the Bosmer that the Thalmor had brought in, he blamed her for him getting caught. I don't remember what they said exactly, but she pulled out a key to a trap door she got off of one those fetchers. We jumped down, right into a troll's den. I didn't stop, just ran right out the cave. Don't know what happened to the woman and the elf, didn't care."

Brynjolf sat back for a moment, going over what Etienne had said. There were far too many coincidences for this to be unrelated. "This Imperial woman… could you describe what she looked like?"

"Dark hair, black, tied back from her face," the Breton said thoughtfully. "She had a worn, old bow, but she was good with it. Thalmor were down before they even knew she was there. And she had these piercing blue eyes, I swore she was staring right into my soul when she looked at me in that cell."

Thrynn had returned with a small red bottle and Brynjolf stood up. "Thanks for the information. Get some sleep."

He headed back out to the Ragged Flagon, going over this new information. _That same Imperial woman infiltrated the Thalmor embassy?_ He shook his head. He had heard someone had gotten into the embassy and killed at least dozen Thalmor, but he would never have expected her. She looked far too honest to have pulled something like that. _Maybe my luck hasn't deserted me all together..._

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

"Lydia can you **please **try to be quiet?!" Ariana hissed. Ever since they got into the Ratways, Lydia had been charging around, attacking anything that moved while bellowing her battle cry and it was driving Ariana crazy.

"I'm sorry, my thane-"

"None of that either! I can't have you calling me your thane here!" Lydia wilted under Ariana's fierce glare and the Imperial woman sighed. "I told you, I don't want them to know who I am. If you can't keep from using that title, just… don't talk, alright?"

Lydia frowned, clearly upset, but nodded all the same. Ariana thanked the Divines for small miracles. The two headed further into the dank and twisting tunnels. Ariana distinctly remembered less bandits in here the last time she had come through, but it was no surprise; the lowlives of Skyrim would flock to such a place. She nocked her bow, carefully peering around the corner for any sight of enemies. There was a Skeever sniffing about, but it hadn't seen her yet. _Perfect_. Just as she lined up her target, Lydia rushed past her, roaring as she brought her axe to bear and sending Ariana's arrow skittering off into the darkness. "Lydia!"

The resulting battle was short, but Ariana was furious. "By the Nine Lydia! Would you stop doing that! I told you to stay quiet! That means stay behind me and let me take care of the enemies from a range **before **you go rushing in with your stupid axe!"

Lydia grudgingly looked at the Axe of Whiterun in her hand as if to remind Ariana of its significance. The Imperial just rolled her eyes and pushed past Lydia. "Come on."

The two of them came to a room with a crazed old man. Ariana carefully crept into range of him and shot an arrow. It missed its mark and hit him in the shoulder. He spin around with a howl and Lydia hoisted her axe, charging in. "Lydia, no!" Ariana warned, just catching sight of the bear traps that littered the room. But it was too late. The man charged straight at them, tripping into his own traps. One closed on his face with a sickening crunch. Ariana looked away from the gore in distaste. Lydia screamed out a second later.

"Oblivion take you, Lydia…" Ariana stopped when she saw her housecarl's foot caught in one of the traps. "Damn." She quickly moved to kneel by the Nord, carefully springing any traps before she stepped on them herself.

"Here, let me see that." She said. Lydia was trying very hard not to cry, face pale and teeth clenched in pain. With deft fingers, Ariana undid the trap, pulling Lydia's leg free. The trap snapped shut again and Ariana drew Lydia away to lean against the wall. She took one look at the leather boot that had been sliced through and shook her head. "We're going to have to pull that off, and it's going to hurt."

Lydia nodded once, bracing herself for the pain that would come. Ariana carefully grabbed the top of the boot and pulled it away from the wound. Lydia let out a hiss of pain and Ariana tried to give her a reassuring smile. After some careful work the boot slid off, revealing the real problem. Lydia's leg was cut through to the bone and the wound was oozing blood. "Oh fuck," Ariana breathed, then she readied her healing spell.

Lydia groaned as the golden light of the spell touched her leg, rapidly repairing the damage to the bone. But even with the magic, Ariana wasn't able to fully heal her housecarl. Her magicka drained, Ariana reached into her bag for a mana potion.

"Are you sure that's wise, my thane?" Lydia gasped, still in pain.

Ariana downed the potion. "I can't carry you out of here. I need you to be able to walk," she said, brushing off Lydia's concerns as she readied her spell again. Even with the potion, Ariana felt dizzy and out of breath by her efforts. _I should have learned more Restoration magic while I was in Bruma_, she thought ruefully, but at least Lydia's leg looked much better. "Can you walk?"

Lydia nodded, carefully standing up to test her weight on her leg only to stumble and reach out for the wall. Ariana grabbed the Nord's arm and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on, it can't be that far now."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Delvin slid into a stool beside Brynjolf at the bar. "So, what happened to that Imperial you were telling us about?"

"She's coming, don't worry," he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

Vekel the Man interjected as he cleaned a tankard. "Give it up Brynjolf... those days are over."

"I'm telling you, this one is different," he insisted.

Dirge spoke up. "We've all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself."

"It's time to face the truth old friend," Vekel shook his head. "You, Vex, Mercer… you're all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!"

"Then who's that over there?" Brynjolf asked, turning to look at the Imperial woman who had just come through the door. She was supporting her Nord friend as the two limped their way over to a chair. Brynjolf approached her and she stood to her full height after making sure her companion was safely seated.

"Well, well… colour me impressed, lass. I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again."

She crossed her arms, voice frosty. "Esbern. Now."

He chuckled. "Reliable and headstrong. You're turning out to be quite the prize."

"I am **nobody's** prize," she hissed. "Just tell me where Esbern is and I will be on my way."

Brynjolf sighed. It would be too much to ask for her to be willing to help them out. "Fine, have it your way lass. He's somewhere down in the Ratway Warrens, through that door at the back of the Flagon. Though," he paused, taking a look over at the Nord woman who was clearly not in any state to travel. "Are you really in a condition to go exploring?"

Ariana narrowed her eyes. "Let's make this perfectly clear, _**thief**_," she spat. "I helped you because you refused to tell me what I needed to know. Now that you've upheld your end of the bargain, we are **through**."

"Alright, alright, I get it. You don't like me. But at least consider what I said."

"I don't need your help," she replied, pulling off her pack and placing it on the table so she could rifle through it.

Brynjolf crossed his arms. "And what about your friend?"

Ariana froze for a split second, but that was all it took. "She's staying here."

"Oh?"

The Nord woman spoke up. "My-"

"Your ankle is in a terrible state Lydia, I'm not taking you with me!" Ariana quickly interrupted. The other woman slumped in her chair and Brynjolf wondered what the story was between the two of them.

"What makes you think she can stay here?"

Ariana's head snapped back up and she stared at Brynjolf. "This is a tavern, is it not?" she questioned coldly.

"Aye," he nodded, "but it's not open to everyone lass."

She carefully looked him up and down. "From what I can see, Brynjolf, is your 'organization' could use every Septim you can find. Can you really afford to turn away my business?"

If everyone in the room hadn't been listening before, they were listening now. "You have the coin to pay for her to stay here? Last I checked your coinpurse was mighty slim."

"How much do you want?" she demanded.

"A hundred septims," he countered immediately.

She gasped. "A hundred?! That's outrageous!"

He shrugged. "Not my problem. That's the price, so either pay it or get out."

"My th-" Lydia started to speak and Ariana cut her off with a hand, not breaking eye contact with Brynjolf. She stood strong, glaring daggers at him. In contrast, he was outwardly serene, but inwardly nervous. The entire room was waiting with baited breath to see who would fold first.

"Pah!" she spat, reaching into her pack. She pulled out a coin purse and threw it at his chest. He caught it and weighed it. "There you go you fetcher."

He was surprised. He didn't think she actually had that money on her. He carefully opened the purse and saw she was genuine. Suddenly she was an inch from his face, eyes flashing.

"If _**anything**_, and I mean anything at all, happens to Lydia while I'm gone, I will make you regret **ever **talking to me."

And then she was gone, grabbing her pack and disappearing through the door to the Ratway Warrens. Again Brynjolf had to wonder about that woman, walking back to the bar in a daze.

"Interesting sort of woman you picked up there Bryn," Delvin said carefully. "Where'd you find her then?"

Brynjolf just shook his head in disbelief.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Ariana tried to clear her mind as she moved into the tunnels of the Ratway Warrens. If she wasn't careful she'd make a mistake and prove that blasted swindler right. Her hands gripped her bow tighter as she thought about him. _Absolute __**bastard**__!_

Up ahead she heard the crunch of booted feet patrolling the corridor. She loosely nocked an arrow to her bow, keeping to the shadows as she moved forward. As she caught sight of the distinctive armor she cursed. _Thalmor! That bloody fetcher set me up!_

She watched the Justicar patrol the corridor, not daring to make a move until she knew his pattern. Taking a deep breath, she readied her arrow and let it fly why he was farthest from her. The effect was immediate - he yowled in pain and spun around, running to the shadows where Ariana had been moments before. But the moment she let the arrow fly, Ariana had moved further back down the tunnel, weaving through the darkest spaces. While the Altmer stood peering into the gloom in a futile attempt to find her, she let another arrow fly, backing off down the tunnel as she lured him further away from any help.

Enraged, he ran to where she had just been crouching, slashing into the darkness. Her third arrow hit its mark and he fell to his knees.

"No more!" he cried, and her face turned stony. The arrow was in flight before she even knew she had pulled it out and the elf lay dead in a pool of his own blood. Emotionlessly she checked through his pockets, pulling away a fair amount of gold and a few potions. Taking his knife, and tucked it into her left boot before she continued on her way.

The Thalmor proved little trouble against her steel arrows and Ariana moved quietly through the tunnels. Up ahead was an opening into a large square room. From her vantage point she counted at least three Thalmor guarding the room and she cursed. One on one was no issue. But she was not very good at close ranged combat.

Nocking her bow, she sent a prayer to Talos and let the arrow fly. She hit one of the guards on the upper floors, and when she shouted out, the other two came running. Ariana backed off down the tunnel, using stealth for as long as she could. She managed to kill one of them and injure the other before they caught up with her. Pulling out the knife she took off the Justicar, she lunged in to kill the mage before the other elf could strike her.

It wasn't a killing blow, and the mage ran off down the corridor, tell-tale signs of a healing spell wrapping around him. _Oblivion take him!_ She circled around the Justicar nervously, waiting for her to move first. The elf laughed.

"What is it Imperial? Scared?"

With a growl, Ariana struck, but the Altmer was expecting her and easily rebuffed the attack, slicing a little close to Ariana's stomach for her liking. The Justicar went on the offensive and Ariana had her hands full trying to dodge her attacks. Suddenly a fire bolt went flying past her ear and she cursed. _Shor's bones, now there's two of them?! _

Despite being close quarters, Ariana pulled out her bow again and started shooting the Justicar. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working. Taking an arrow at close range made the elf stumble just long enough for Ariana to move away from her attack and shoot at the Mage who was hiding further down the hallway. With calculated cruelty, Ariana aimed an arrow that sliced its way through the Justicar's throat, making the woman grasp at her neck as the blood gurgled and bubbled out of her. Eyes cold, she continued taking shots at the Mage, striking him in his leg as he tried to run away. He fell to the floor and she stood over him, aiming a shot to his head. His begging was cut short as she released the arrow.

Ariana collapsed back against the wall, trying to catch her breath as she shook with emotion. Her armor was coated in blood and she had taken a number of hits before killing the two Thalmor. Out of instinct she cast her healing spell, easing away her pain. After a few short moments she forced herself up, looting the bodies before she continued on her way.

It wasn't long before she stood in front of a strange door. She knocked on it cautiously. "Esbern?"

The eye slit opened. "Go away!"

"Esbern, open the door. I'm a friend," Ariana entreated.

"What?!" came the shocked reply. "No, that's not me. I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about."

Ariana sighed. The old man wasn't going to make this easy for her. "Look, the Thalmor have found you. You need to get out of here."

"Oh, how reassuring!" he scoffed. "Most likely you're with the Thalmor and this is just a trick to get me to open the door!"

Sounded like he was the right guy alright. Just as paranoid as a Blade would need to be to escape detection. Frustrated, Ariana decided to use the code that Delphine had given her. "Delphine said to remember the 30th of Frostfall."

The man's entire attitude changed as the words left her lips. "Ah. Indeed, indeed. I do remember." There was a pause and he spoke again. "Delphine really is alive then? You better come in then and tell me how you found me and what you want."

After fiddling with the locks for far too long, Esbern opened the door and ushered her into his room. "So Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years. I thought she'd have realized it's hopeless by now. I tried to tell her, years ago..."

Though she wasn't much in the mood for small talk after those Thalmor, Ariana had to pause at what the man had to say. "Hopeless? What do you mean it's hopeless?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he asked incredulously. "What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on? Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said! The Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him!"

Ariana stopped listening to him for a moment. _Nothing can stop him? Then what am I supposed to do? What is the point of my destiny if he's just going to… devour the world?_ "Alduin... the one who's raising the other dragons?"

Esbern nodded. "Yes, yes! You know but you refuse to understand!"

"You're talking about the literal end of the world?".

"Oh yes. It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned."

Ariana was beginning to wonder why Delphine had been so insistent that they needed Esbern. From what he was saying, it sounded like he had already given up. "Only a Dragonborn can stop him," he ranted. "But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems that the Gods have grown tired of us," he said morosely.

Ariana cut him off, "Esbern, I'm Dragonborn."

He was shocked. "What? You are… can it really be true? Dragonborn? Then… then there is hope! The Gods have not abandoned us! We must… we must… We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine."

_Thank the Divines!_

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The night grew long but still Brynjolf sat in the Ragged Flagon. Everyone else had gone to bed, it was just him and Lydia now. He had tried striking up a conversation with the brown-haired Nord, but she had ignored him entirely. Now he sat at the bar, swirling the last of his mead in the bottom of his tankard.

The door to the Flagon opened with a crash and closed just as loudly. Brynjolf hopped up to see who it was.

"You!" came the cry and suddenly the Imperial woman was standing in front of him, a knife pointed to his throat. "Did you know? By the Nine, did you know?!"

He stood still in shock. "Know what lass?" he hazarded.

"The Thalmor you s'wit!" She punctuated her displeasure by pressing the knife uncomfortable close to his neck. "Did you set me up?"

"Thalmor? Near the Flagon?" His head was spinning.

"My thane…" spoke Lydia cautiously, trying to get up and failing.

Ariana looked back at her and some of her anger drained away. She looked back at Brynjolf for a long moment, then sighed, "You didn't know, did you?" She put her knife away and stepped back.

A decrepit looking old man appeared from the direction the Imperial had burst in. "Come on Esbern. Let's get you to Delphine." He heard her say as she headed over to Lydia to help the woman up. Without a backwards glance, the three of them walked out of the Ragged Flagon.

He stood stock still for a long moment. He rubbed a hand over his beard, suddenly exhausted. Thalmor in the Ratways, a thane… no, there was a lot more to this woman than she let on. Vaguely he wondered why he had stayed up to wait for her, but he quickly banished the thought. What he needed right now was his bed. And maybe more mead while he was at it.


	4. Welcome to the Thieves Guild

A/N: Thanks to Kara Ashford, GoddessLaughs and Id65 for your lovely reviews! Hope you like this chapter!

"_It was a good game though lass. Seems like Vipir was right about persuading you though."_

Ariana woke with his dark chuckle ringing in her ears, her own panting breaths harsh in the silence of High Hrothgar. She groaned and sat up, fully awake after her vivid dream. _Oblivion take that stupid man! _

Climbing out of the bed, she got dressed and quietly walked through the cold stone halls of the temple, trailing her hand along the wall as she went. She pushed open the ornate door to the courtyard, stepping out in the frosty mountain air. She took a deep breath, staring up at the stars glimmering above her. It was almost peaceful enough to make her forget about the imminent threat: the return of the dragons, the end of the world.

Ariana walked over towards the edge of the cliff, leaning against the gate where she had learned _Wuld_. The valley below seem so small from this height, all her problems seemed so far away. It had been four months since Helgen, three since becoming the thane of Whiterun, two since she infiltrated the Thalmor embassy in the mountains near Solitude, and one month since she left Riften with Esbern. Everything seemed to be happening much too quickly, and time was literally running out.

She had been learning about Shouts from the Greybeards for nearly a month, but she still felt no closer to being the Dragonborn. In fact, she felt more conflicted than ever. Everything she had been taught about dragons had been thrown out the window when she had gone up to the Throat of the World and met Paarthurnax. She was actually tempted to go speak with him again tonight. He reminded her of her grandfather and she missed Cyrodiil terribly. She wanted some kind of reassurance, any kind of reassurance.

With a shiver, she turned back to the monastery, snow crunching under her booted feet. She was tempted to stay in her perch at the top of the mountain, let the rest of the world spin on below her. It wasn't as if she had asked to become some kind of hero. She grew up on a farm outside of Anvil for Talos' sake! She hadn't asked for the Thalmor to come into her life in Cyrodiil. She hadn't asked to be captured by Imperials crossing into Skyrim when she was trying to escape the memories of the Empire and start a new life. She certainly hadn't asked to be able to absorb dragon souls!

But then, here she was. Cold, alone and afraid on top of a mountain. Tasked with doing the impossible. She plodded over to her bed, sitting down without grace. The Greybeards slept on, ignorant of her movements.

Paarthunax had told her that the only way to learn the shout that would stop Alduin was to get an Elder Scroll. _Where on Nirn am I going to get an Elder Scroll?! _Ariana shook her head in disbelief. It wasn't as if they were just left lying out for anyone to take.

So what was she going to do? She wasn't going to find anything just sitting around here, meditating on thu'ums. And as much as learning more about what it meant to shout had helped her master the words she had learned, every day spent up on the mountain meant one more Helgen could happen down below.

Mind made up, Ariana stood and grabbed her pack from the floor. Grabbing a loaf of bread and a wedge of goat cheese, she stuffed them into her bag before she slung it over her back. With one look behind her, she walked out of the front door into the cold winter air.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

"Ugh, this is useless!" Ariana wailed, slumping down on the table in front of her and scattering the books she had collected. Luckily Jordis appeared to be busy downstairs preparing lunch, so Ariana was left alone to complain to her heart's content. "How on Nirn am I supposed to find an Elder Scroll?" she asked aloud.

So far, mining her connections had yielded no information. Most of them had just told her they didn't know anything about an Elder Scroll or had asked too many pointless questions to be of real help. A few had mentioned a large library in the Mage's College in Winterhold but Ariana had no desire to go anywhere near people who shot fireballs from their fingertips.

The only other thing she could think of was a bedtime story her father had told her when she was just a girl. Two hundred years ago, the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil had stolen an Elder Scroll from the Imperial City. Maybe he had been spinning tales, but he had always said the Guild was capable of stealing anything. A bedtime story wasn't much to go on, but a Scroll would be a high value artifact. Undoubtedly there would be collectors and less than savoury individuals who would pay a lot of money to get their hands on it. Even if the Guild wasn't doing that well as Brynjolf had suggested, they'd keep track of that kind of thing. Or they knew someone who did know where one would be kept. Ariana sighed. She had been dreading this, but she was stuck between mages and thieves. Of the two, at least thieves were predictable.

She pushed herself upright and stood up, stopping to pick up the books from the floor before she headed downstairs. Her foot had scarcely touched the main floor when Jordis spoke.

"Honor to you, my thane."

Ariana resisted the urge to sigh. She was getting very tired of all these stuffy titles. "When's lunch?"

In response, Jordis ladled out a spoonful of whatever soup she had created into a wooden bowl. Ariana took the offered dish, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Thanks," she said between mouthfuls of the hearty potato and leek soup. "I'm going to be leaving Solitude today," she announced as Jordis sat down.

"I am sworn to protect you-" she started, and Ariana cut her off.

"I know, I know. But I need you to stay here."

Jordis simply nodded, going back to her lunch. Ariana shook her head. The woman was completely unflappable.

Jordis spoke up again. "When will you be back, my thane?"

Ariana looked up from her bowl. "I'm not sure. Between the dragons and the civil war, it could be a while."

Jordis nodded. "Stay safe, my thane."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Byrnjolf was in a sour mood. He sat by himself at the bar in the Ragged Flagon, staring balefully into his near empty tankard. It was early afternoon and the tavern was virtually empty. Vex was scoping out Goldenglow for a job later that night, and Brynjolf had no idea where Delvin had disappeared to. Mercer had been a foul temper for the last month, so most of the members of the guild had taken on as many jobs as they could just to get away from his wrath. Brynjolf heard the door to the tavern open, but didn't turn around. The only people who came down here these days were part of the guild.

A woman dressed in elven armor slid onto the stool beside him and Brynjolf turned to her in interest. She had a grey cowl covering her head, obscuring her face. He quickly looked her over. She wore leather bracers, and he caught sight of an enchanted ring on her left hand. There was a quiver full of dwarven arrows slung over her shoulder and a glass bow on her back. "And what's a woman like you doing in a place like this?"

"Hello Brynjolf," the voice was very familiar. "It's been a while."

"Has it, lass?" he asked casually. He still wasn't sure who she was.

The woman laughed. "A little while," she replied. She waved a hand at Vekel for a drink, which he gave to her with disdain. "So, tell me. Is the guild still struggling with its 'run of bad luck'?"

"Guild's doing fine," he lied through his teeth. "What's with the cowl, lass? Do you have something to hide?"

She shrugged, taking a drink from her tankard. "Can't be too careful, walking into a den of thieves."

Brynjolf narrowed his eyes at the strange woman. He **knew **he had heard that voice before, but he couldn't quite place it. If he could see her face… "But you walked into the den regardless," he said.

"I heard you might have some information I need. I'd be willing to pay handsomely for it."

"Oh?" He paused momentarily, torn between the promise of much needed gold and his curiosity.

Without a word the woman pulled out a large coinpurse and carelessly tossed it on the bar in his direction. As he looked down at the bag she spoke up. "A thousand septims."

"That's a fair chunk of money to just be throwing around, lass."

She seemed unperturbed. "Are you interested?"

"I'd like to know who I'm dealing with first," he said, crossing his arms.

She shook her head, a tendril of black hair escaping from the cowl as she moved. "Not on the table."

"Then I won't help you." Somehow this all felt familiar...

She reached over to grab the money and he grabbed her wrist. She chuckled. "So you do need the money."

"What do you want to know?" he growled, letting go of her.

She folded her hands together. "I'm looking for an Elder Scroll."

The statement floored him. _What in the name of the Eight is she doing looking for an Elder Scroll? And why did she come to me?_ He recovered quickly. "And what's a nice lass like you doing looking for an Elder Scroll?"

"My business is my own."

_It's like talking to a wall. _Brynjolf huffed, and turned away in his seat, trying to look as if his mug was more interesting than the strange visitor. At that moment, Delvin came into the Flagon from the direction of the Cistern and the cowled woman turned her head to watch him. _Perfect_. Brynjolf grabbed the back of the cowl and pulled, revealing black hair. As the fabric slipped off her head, she turned back to face him in irritation and he smiled. "Nice to see you too, Ariana. Seems like the last three months were kind to you."

The Imperial woman glowered at him, crossing her arms. "Like I said, I'm looking-"

"For an Elder Scroll?" he asked, picking up the coinpurse from the bar top. "I still have to wonder, why an Elder Scroll?"

"If you don't want to help me, I can just take my coin elsewhere," she huffed, reaching for the money. He moved it just out of her arm's reach, tossing it up in the air and catching it in his hand again.

"I never said I wasn't going to help you, lass. But this," he said, gesturing at her with the coinpurse, "won't be enough."

"You… you thief!" she shouted, outraged. "That's a thousand septims!"

"And it'll cover the clean up we had to do with the Thalmor in the Ratways."

She crossed her arms. "Yeah, and where would you be if the Thalmor had been poking their noses in the Flagon? If anything, you should be thanking me for getting rid of them!"

He laughed. "Getting rid of them? We had to pull all sorts of strings just to stop them from investigating why a team of their soldiers 'disappeared'!"

She had the decency to look humbled. "Fine," she relented. "What **do **you want then?"

"You."

Her eyes momentarily widened in surprise. "What do you want me for?"

"Same thing I wanted last time, lass. I want you to join the Guild."

"Brynjolf!"

"What you're asking isn't an easy task, lass," he interjected crisply, cutting her protests short. "It isn't as simple as picking up a couple books and skimming through them. What you really want is connection to guild resources to see if any of them know where to find an Elder Scroll. And you want it done discreetly if that cowl is any indication, because you've had the Thalmor breathing down your neck since you infiltrated their embassy."

She didn't speak, staring at her boots. "Am I right?" he prompted.

Ariana raised her eyes to his again and he was struck with how tired she seemed, like she was carrying a great deal of weight. "Yes," she whispered.

"If you need somewhere to hide, lass," he started, but she laughed. It was a bitter, cold sound.

"There's no hiding Brynjolf, only running. Always running."

He touched her arm and carefully guided her over to a chair at one of the tables in front of the bar. Sitting down across from the Imperial woman, he took a moment to really look at her. Though she was wearing better armor and had a better weapon, she had dark circles under her eyes and her face seemed thinner than when he saw her three months ago. He wanted to ask her why she was running, but he knew she wasn't going to tell him.

"If you need somewhere to hide for a time Ariana, the Guild's the place for you," he said softly.

She treated him to a bitter smile. "What's the point of hiding? Haven't you heard the world's going to end?"

"And what's finding an Elder Scroll got to do with all this then?"

"My business is my own," she said sharply and he sighed.

"Fine, have it your way lass." He straightened up in his chair and gave her a level stare. "But if you want access to Guild contacts, you have to be one of us."

She looked away. It was easy for him to see she wasn't comfortable with the idea, but after her performance in the market and her miraculous survival in the Ratways there was no way he was going to let her slip away again. A woman like this didn't show up in Riften every day.

"The Guild has its perks, lass. We've got Guild members who are masters in what they do who will train you, a safe place for you to stay, we even have our own merchant. Used to have a couple more, before our luck turned sour, but I'm confident they'll come back once the coin starts coming in. With the Guild, you can move through Skyrim practically unnoticed," he said, noticing he grabbed her attention with the last point.

"And it's the only way you're going to talk to me about the Elder Scroll?" she asked plaintively.

"Aye, lass."

Ariana sighed. "Then there's nothing for it. Fine, I'll join."

Brynjolf grinned. "Good. I have something for you to do before I let you see the whole operation though."

"Another test?" she complained.

"It's not hard to see you're reluctant about joining us. I need to know we can rely on you. Don't worry, it's nothing too difficult."

She fixed him with a furious glare. "Fine," she spat. "What is it?"

"I need you to handle a few deadbeats for me," he explained.

"Deadbeats? What did they do?" There was the curiosity he had come to expect from her.

"They owe our organization some serious coin and they've decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways."

Ariana pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "So I'm going to be your muscle. Who are they?"

"Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand and Haelga. Do this right and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization - and access to that information you want."

"Keerava?" she asked in surprise. "I don't want to hurt her. She was the only person in this Gods forsaken town who was even decent to me."

"Too bad lass. She owes the Guild and if you want that information, you have to do what I say."

There was a long, tense moment where the two of them stared each other down across the table. Ariana spoke first. "How did you want me to handle it?"

"Honestly, the debt is secondary here," Brynjolf admitted. She was already unhappy with the whole situation, so a little persuasion would help nudge her in the right direction. "What's most important is that you get the message across that we aren't to be ignored. A word of warning though… I don't want any of them killed. Bad for business."

She nodded curtly. "Consider it done."

"Good. If you need any details on your marks, I'll be here. Now get going."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf was deep in conversation with Delvin when Ariana returned to the Flagon. She dropped a bag of coins down on the table between the two of them, cheeks stained red and slightly out of breath.

"Efficient," Delvin commented. "Maybe you were right about her after all Bryn."

Brynjolf shook his head at his friend in amusement and looked up at Ariana. "So, job's done and you even brought the gold. Best of all you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive."

She flushed at the not-so-subtle reference to her foray into the Ratway Warrens but let the jab slide. "Here's what they owed us."

"Well done. And it would seem I owe you something in return." He passed her some potions that she quickly dropped into her pack without stopping to look at them.

"What's next then?"

For someone who didn't want to join the guild, she was certainly eager to get started. "Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I'd say you've done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit."

Ariana shrugged. "If there's more gold where that came from, I'm in."

Brynjolf was surprised, but noticed she kept glancing at Delvin from the corner of her eye. _Putting on an act to keep your real motivations hidden. Clever girl._ "That's the spirit! Larceny's in your blood… the tell-tale sign of a practiced thief. I think you'll do more than just fit in around here."

"Lovely," she said, sounding more disgusted than anything else. He quickly covered his grin.

"How about following me and I'll show you what we're all about." Without waiting for her reply, Brynjolf stood up and began walking towards the hidden entrance to the Cistern. Ariana followed closely along behind him. When he opened the fake back of the cupboard she made a noise of amusement.

"Secret corridor. Neat trick."

They stepped through and she closed the door behind them. He was about to move on when she grabbed his arm. "My information?"

"I'll take care of it lass, don't worry," he brushed her off. She wasn't happy with his response but fell into step behind him regardless. He took one look back at her before they headed into the heart of the guild, not surprised to find her worrying at her lip. He pushed open the door and let her walk through first, making the Imperial give him a strange look. She stopped at the end of the short corridor.

"Wow. I… wasn't expecting it to be so large."

"The Flagon's just a front," Brynjolf explained. "A… security measure, of a sort."

She nodded and he led her further into the cavernous room. Waiting in its center was the Guild master, Mercer Frey. He was watching the two of them approach with a hawk-like gaze. Brynjolf hoped that Ariana would have enough sense not to ask too many questions.

"Mercer?" The Guild master's eyes snapped towards him as he spoke. "This is the one I was talking about: our new recruit."

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources Brynjolf," Mercer warned and Brynjolf risked a glance over to Ariana. Her jaw was set defiantly and her arms were crossed. _This is not going to go over well._

Mercer turned his gaze towards the Imperial, expression almost predatory. "Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussion. You do what we say, when we say."

She narrowed her eyes at him and he stepped closer to her, looming over her. "Do I make myself clear?" he snarled.

She didn't back down and Brynjolf was worried he'd have to interfere when she finally hissed, "Yes, I understand."

"Good, then we won't have any problems," Mercer turned to walk away.

"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?" Brynjolf called after him.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild."


	5. Gone Fishing

A/N: Thanks muchly to Id65 and GoddessLaughs for your lovely reviews! And thanks to my long suffering betas for putting up with me!

"And this is where you'll be sleeping, lass," Brynjolf finished his tour, gesturing to a bed that peeked out from behind an ornately carved screen. Coincidentally, it was in sight of his own bed, but he chose not to bring that tidbit of information to her attention.

"Is Mercer always like that?" Ariana scowled, eyes narrowed.

Brynjolf laid a hand on her shoulder. "Our Guild Master's... a little bit prickly. But don't let that put you off. I know you'll do well."

She sighed, shrugging his arm away. "Brynjolf, you know why I'm here."

"And you know that getting that kind of information takes time. You have to prove you really want it."

She turned to face him, and Brynjolf watched her struggle with whatever she was planning to say. Finally, shook her head. "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"You should talk to Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way." As she walked past him to leave, he pressed a hand against her shoulder to hold her there. "And talk with Tonilia in the Flagon… she'll set you up with your new armor."

"What's wrong with this?" Ariana gestured to her elven armor.

He chuckled. "Makes you stick out like a Khajiit in the market."

Muttering something impolite under her breath, she shoved past him, stalking out of the Cistern.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf had been watching the Imperial closely during her first few weeks in the Guild. He had no illusions about the motives behind her willingness to steal for them, and wouldn't put it past her to take the information and disappear back into thin-air from whence she came. Still, she was bringing in more coin in these last few weeks than they had seen in the last six months.

Vex and Delvin had been giving her work around Riften; plant a stolen ruby in Snow-Shod Manor, write in some numbers in a ledger at the Pawned Prawn: easy jobs she could be bailed out of if things went sour. But the lass was all business, getting her tasks done quietly and efficiently. It was impressive.

He had been sitting in at one of the tables the Ragged Flagon when she had returned from the day's tasks. She had barely grabbed the septims from Vex's hand before requesting another job. He hid a smile while the fair-haired woman outlined some information they had gotten about a recent inheritance, the location of the house and the items she wanted procured. Ariana had nodded her acceptance and headed over to where Delvin was sitting. He handed her a coinpurse and explained what he wanted her to do next.

"Uh, I'm not very good at pickpocketing," she warned the grizzled thief, worrying the coinpurse between her fingers.

Delvin raised an eyebrow. "You can't really afford to turn down any jobs at this point."

She put her hands up in surrender in the face of Delvin's words."Fine, fine. I'll do it," she said, "but we both know this isn't going to end well."

"You get caught and we've never heard of you," he replied nonchalantly, and Brynjolf winced at his friend's blunt choice of words. Reassurance had never been Delvin's strong suit. Ariana only pressed her lips together and nodded curtly.

Vekel leaned over the bar, watching as she made her way back into the Cistern. "She's your new protégé? Doesn't seem like much to me."

Brynjolf downed the rest of his mead and shrugged at the bartender as he stood. "Looks can be deceiving, lad."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Lurking in the shadows of the Bee and Barb, Ariana tried the calm the nauseating flutter in her stomach as she watched her intended mark wandering between the stalls of the market. She hated pickpocketing and avoided it at all costs. The idea of reaching into another person's clothing made her skin crawl; it was too personal and there was no telling what she could find. Plus it was much easier to get caught at it. But Delvin was right, there was no way she could afford to refuse a job, no matter how unpalatable. Not if she wanted to accomplish her mission.

It was early afternoon and the area was crowded, people jostling each other as they examined the wares for sale. The Dunmer she was watching had just moved on from Madesi's stall and was now chatting with Grelka. The stern faced Nord was trying her best to convince the elf to buy from her stall, eyes narrowed and shrewd. Hopefully their conversation would be enough to keep them both occupied. Steeling herself, Ariana plunged into the throng of buyers.

She walked over to Grelka's stall, feigning interest in the weapons, looking for any guards out of the corner of her eye. Her hands were sweaty and shaking, and Ariana tried to calm her nerves, wiping her palms on her armor. Looking around for any guards, she mimed dropping something to the ground and bent to retrieve it, reaching her hand into the Dunmer's pocket as she stooped down.

"What the-" She looked up in panic, meeting Tythis Ulen's gaze as the man's surprised glance turned furious. "Stop! Thief!"

_Damn it! _Ariana scrambled away from him, jumping to her feet and sprinting toward the nearest alley. She swung around the corner of the Bee and the Barb - colliding right into a pair of Riften guards. Jerking away from them, she spun around in search of a new route, and found two more guards behind her. _I never should have taken this job!_

"Give it up Imperial!" Closing her eyes, Ariana's shoulders sagged as she raised her hands in defeat.

And then Brynjolf was there.

"Let the lass go," he ordered softly. The guards looked at him in surprise.

"She was caught stealing in the market-" One guard began, face reddening in outrage.

Brynjolf held up a silencing hand, "She's one of mine."

"She's going to spend a night in the Riften jail."

"Do you have rocks between your ears?" Brynjolf barked. "She belongs to **me**."

Grumbling, the guards backed away, separating as they returned to their patrols. Ariana turned to look at him, face flaming. "I don't _belong _to anyone!"

Brynjolf gave her a long, hard stare. "You best learn to curb your temper, lass. And a bit of gratitude while you're at it. Or would you have preferred a night in prison?"

She blushed an even deeper red, looking at her feet. "Thanks for helping me out there," she muttered, thoroughly chastised.

"Don't let it happen again," he said roughly, turning his back on her and melting into the crowd, leaving her confused and alone.

When Ariana got back to the Flagon, the red-haired Nord was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing hard against the lump of dread in her throat, she approached Delvin. "I botched the job."

"I heard," he said, taking a bite of the seared slaughterfish in front of him. "A little birdy told me not to give you any more pickpocketing jobs until you've had some training. Got a numbers job in Whiterun, though, if you're interested."

She smiled at him, feeling a weight slide off her shoulders. "Sounds good."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The weeks dragged on slowly for Ariana. She would take on a couple of jobs from Vex and a couple from Delvin, head off and take care of them, return and repeat. Regardless of what she did, most of the Guild members seemed content to ignore her her, which suited her just fine. What really bothered her was Brynjolf's sudden unwillingness to be within a thirty foot radius of her. She had hardly seen him since he saved her neck from the guards, and any time she did see him seemed to make a point of avoiding her gaze and disappearing to another room.

She shook her head to clear it. There was no way she was going to let that irritating Nord throw her off from what was really important. Besides, the less time she had to spend dealing with that damn con-man the better, lest he manage to swindle her into joining the Dark Brotherhood without her knowing it. Grabbing a book, she moved through the Guild to a nook outside the Flagon. The spot had become a familiar haunt for her whenever she had time between jobs. Apparently, there had used to be merchants who occupied the spots, but they left when the Guild started to lose money. She had barely opened her book when she was interrupted by an accented voice.

"Ariana."

She looked up, refusing to allow herself the tiny thrill that coursed through her. "Oh look, if it isn't the elusive Brynjolf."

He shook his head. "We don't have time for this right now. Mercer wants to see you."

"He wants to see me? Why?"

"He didn't tell me, but it's not a good idea to leave the Guild Master waiting."

Brynjolf was right about that one. It hadn't taken her long to learn Mercer wasn't known for his patience. She put her book down and followed the Nord to the Cistern.

Mercer was standing at his desk, leaning over a thick, leather-bound business ledger. He didn't look up when they arrived.

"Mercer," Brynjolf called and the Breton glanced up.

"Ah, Brynjolf and his protégé. I hear you've been bringing in a bit of coin for our organization, when you're not getting caught by the guards that is."

Her cheeks burned and she grit her teeth. "I do what I can."

"Good, then I think it's time to put your _expertise _to the test," Mercer sneered.

"Wait a moment, you're not talking about Goldenglow are you?" Brynjolf interjected and something in his tone caused Ariana to look up at him sharply. "Even our little Vex couldn't get in."

"You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it."

_Oh great. More tests._ Ariana turned her attention back to Mercer, holding in her distaste.

"Goldenglow estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has decided to take matters into his own hand and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details." Mercer dismissed the two of them with an errant wave of his hand. Brynjolf quickly steered the Imperial away from the desk and into the middle of the room.

Ariana clenched her fists, biting back her urge to scream. She turned to Brynjolf, managing to grit out a single demand. "Tell me about the Goldenglow job."

Brynjolf paused suddenly, eyes flashing up to her face for the briefest instant before his stoic expression was once again firmly in place. "Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm; they raise those wretched little things for honey," he explained, his calm tone at odds with the acrimony in his eyes. "It's owned by some smart-mouthed wood elf named Aringoth. We need to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate's hives and clearing out the safe in the main house."

It sounded simple enough, but Ariana knew better than to believe that was all there was to it. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is you can't burn the whole place to the ground. That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did."

Ariana huffed, but with how poorly this place was doing, there was no way they could afford to piss off a client. "Makes sense."

"Aye," Brynjolf nodded, "the last thing we want is to be doing is crossing our clients."

"So the estate has to be in one piece, but what about the Bosmer?"

"Maven prefers that Aringoth remain alive, but if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him." Ariana blinked, taken aback at the ice in his voice. "The Guild has a lot riding on this. Don't make me look foolish by mucking it up."

"Believe me Brynjolf, making you look foolish is the last thing on my mind," she said, trying to match his chilly tone. "How do I destroy the bee hives?"

"They're built like fortresses to resist the weather, but their weakness is flame. Besides, nothing tells the people of Riften we mean business better than a huge column of smoke."

She had to agree with him there. "But if you want to send a message, why not level the entire estate?"

"Maven Black-Briar," he said the name like she should know it. "Burn all the hives and she'd have to import honey for Black-Briar Meadery, which would cut into her profits."

_The Black-Briars._ Ariana withheld a low groan; she might have figured. They were tangled in every part of the city, and ever since she had come to Riften, they seemed to pop up whenever it was most inconvenient.

Brynjolf continued, "We had an arrangement with Maven. We kept an eye on Goldenglow Estate to make sure the honey kept flowing. If the workers had a dispute, we'd rough them up. If the competitors tried to buy honey from Aringoth, we'd steal the shipments. In return, Maven allowed us to extort Aringoth and bring in a huge payout."

"And everyone wins except for him," she pointed out, disgusted.

Brynjolf was suddenly inches from her face. "Look lass, I understand this kind of work doesn't sit well with your _morals_, but it's what you **do **now. I'd advise keeping those kinds of judgments to yourself down here, you got it?"

She stepped back. "I got it, loud and clear." A long, tense silence passed between them before she asked, "What's so important about the estate for us?"

"It used to bring in a mountain of gold for the Guild. You could almost call it our sweetest deal," he chuckled humorlessly and she covered her face at his terrible pun. "Then out of the clear blue, Aringoth stops sending us our cut. Mercer was… angry... to put it kindly. So we sent in Vex and find out he's hired an army of mercenaries to guard the place."

That piqued her interest. "Mercenaries? Not Riften guards?"

"Aye. Aringoth sent the city guard packing and fortified the entire island with hirelings."

"Great." This was not going to be as easy as her earlier missions.

"In fact," he continued, "Vex barely made it out of there alive."

Ariana nodded. "I'll be sure to talk to her before I head out." She paused for a moment, then gave in to her curiosity. "So, Maven Black-Briar is the influential client?"

He nodded and turned away, heading towards the training room. She followed after him. There were more questions she was just itching to ask. "How dangerous is it to cross her?"

Brynjolf stopped in his tracks and Ariana nearly bumped into him. He gave her an incredulous look. "Let me put it to you this way. Nothing happens in Riften without Maven's consent. One word from her and you could spend the rest of the fourth era in prison."

The Imperial grimaced. Talk about being in over her head. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You watch yourself on that island," he warned softly. "Those mercenaries don't take prisoners."

She was surprised to hear a note of genuine concern in his voice. She chose not to say anything about it, leaving his side to find Vex in the Flagon. She had a feeling she was going to need all the inside expertise she could get.


	6. Golden Glow and Silver Blood

A/N: Thanks to GoddessLaughs for your lovely review! And thanks to my super wonderful betas who helped me turn what was a pile of crap into something readable!

Getting onto the estate was going to be hard in and of itself, with its high rocks and wooden wall to keep out trespassers, not to mention the mercenaries who were patrolling the island. Ariana cursed under her breath. Mercer Frey could take his stupid job and shove it up his ass. She knew that he meant for her to fail this. There was no other reason he would send such a new recruit on a job that a seasoned veteran had already failed.

_Didn't Brynjolf say she almost died?_ Distracted, Ariana stepped on a twig on her way around the outside of the estate and it broke with a crack as loud as a dragon's roar. She flinched at the noise, waiting anxiously to see if anyone noticed.

"What was that?" a voice ricocheted off of the tall stone walls and above her, a mercenary turned to face her direction. Ariana froze, praying to the Nine that the mercenary wouldn't catch sight of her in the darkness. The night was blessedly moonless, further helping to conceal her presence on the grounds, but the torches lighting the compound threw their light too closely for comfort.

After several minutes, the shadow turned away, "Hmph. Must of been the wind," he grumbled, and moved out of sight. Ariana pushed away from the rock she had been plastered against and kept moving. A wooden wall near where she was standing seemed to be the lowest point in the palisade. If she could climb up the rocky edge and get to it, she could slip into the estate unnoticed.

It took a lot of effort to navigate the craggy rocks, but finally she managed to scramble her way up to the wooden bulwark. She risked a peek overtop and dropped down again immediately, heart in her throat. In that brief moment, she had all but been face to face with one of the mercenaries. _Why in Oblivion did Mercer send me on this job?_ Clearly the foul man wanted her to fail and leave the Guild in disgrace. But failure wasn't an option.

After a few moments, she risked another look and was relieved that there were no guards to be seen. She hopped over the side of the fence with little difficulty and took her bearings. On her left was the main house, surrounded with mercenaries who patrolled the long, well-lit walkways. On her left were the hives, shrouded in shadows and seemingly unguarded. She glanced between the two, considering her options.

_Perhaps if I start the fires, the guards will run over here and I can slip into the main building unnoticed._ The sound of creaking wood announced the presence of another patrolling guard on a nearby walkway. Ariana cursed her inattentiveness, looking around for somewhere to hide. She ducked behind a couple of barrels just before he passed, a little too close for her comfort. She waited a long minute before she climbed out from her hiding place, taking a moment to calm her breathing. Glancing once more at the house, she skulked away from the mercenaries, toward the bee hives.

The buzzing sound of the insects grew louder as she neared the center of the six hives, drowning out all other sound, including any that might warn her against danger or discovery. Sending a quick look over her shoulder to reassure herself that she still not had been spotted, Ariana knelt down and prepared herself for the spell.

Learning the _Flames _tome hadn't been difficult, but it brought back horrible memories, filling her mind with the sickening stench of burnt flesh. Even now the odor seemed to linger in her nose, clinging to her; filling her pores as completely as it filled her mind. Ariana shook her head. She couldn't afford to be distracted on the job. Too much was riding on this for her to slip up.

Summoning the fire, she made quick work of three of the hive before melting back into the darkness. Shouts of alarm mingled with sickeningly sweet smoke as mercenaries realized the hives were ablaze. The distraction worked better than she could had expected, leaving the path to the house mostly clear. Ariana wasn't willing to take any chances with the few guards who lingered behind though; she slipped into the sewer entrance that Vex had mentioned to her and out of sight.

The air was fetid and cool, and the walls were slick with a thick layer of scum. She could hear the squeaks of skeevers up ahead and she careful watched the stones below her feet as not to alert them of her presence. Ariana made quick work of them, splashing the slime coated tunnel with blood and bits of black fur. She noticed a few traps as she walked, probably set up as a result of Vex's earlier attempts to get into the estate. Gingerly, Ariana tripped them, standing back to avoid what could have been a slow and incredibly painful demise. Very soon she reached the ladder on the opposite side of the sewer and slowly climbed out, looking for any signs of heavily armed men. She peeked around the side of the building and noticed a large crowd standing in front of the now flaming hives. The fire had spread, consuming all six of them and she cursed her own stupidity. Of course none of them would think to make a bucket chain from the lake to douse the blaze, but there was nothing for it now.

The locks securing the main house had were proving to be more difficult than she anticipated, and Ariana let out a noise of displeasure with each broken pick. She kept looking up and away from the door in case any mercenary came near. The tension was making her hands shake and heart thud loudly in her chest. _This is taking too long!_ Finally the lock clicked and she cracked the door, slipping silently inside with a sigh of relief.

It was eerily quiet inside and she suddenly wished Vex had been able to provide a floor plan instead of the vague directions the thief had offered. The silence made the Imperial uneasy. She was acutely aware of each of her footfalls on the wooden boards, every creak, the sound of her armor as she walked. Brynjolf's warning rang in her ears, "_You watch yourself on that island. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners."_

She crept through the building, looking for any sight of Aringoth or a safe. She turned a corner and spotted a patrolling mercenary just as he turned around to face her. _Son of a bitch!_ Ariana moved back around the corner, covering her mouth with her hand. In this silence, even her breathing could give her away. She heard his footsteps stopping mere inches from where she hid, and she closed her eyes tightly as she prayed he would just turn back around. Time seemed to slow as she crouched against the wall, but she finally heard his footsteps moving away and she let out a ragged breath. She took a quick look down the hallway to make sure he wasn't going to turn around again, then sprinted into a room on the opposite side of the corridor. _Great. What now?_

The room was a long dining hall, with a door at the far end. Maybe luck was with her after all. Creeping over, she quickly glimpsed out into the wide hall beyond the room. To her left were a set of stairs to the upper floor, and on her right a gate with a solid looking lock. After a moment of hesitation, she crept upstairs, pausing with every creak of the floorboards and checking behind her for any sign of the patrolling mercenary.

Once on the upper floor, it only took a few moments for her to find the elf, though she had to dodge another two mercenaries. Aringoth was asleep on the large bed in the middle of his room and Ariana would bet a hundred Septims that he kept his keys on him at all time. She really hated pickpocketing.

She nervously licked her lips, looking towards the closed doors as if at any second mercenaries would barge in. With the fire blazing outside, it was a real possibility. _Focus Ariana!_ She carefully moved the blankets off of the slumbering elf, waiting a moment as he shifted in his sleep. Reaching into his pocket, she delicately extracted his key with him none the wiser. Pleased that was done with, she moved back over to the closed door. Gently pulling it open, she checked the room beyond. The mercenary was still sitting at the table eating his dinner and Ariana bit back a curse. She had hoped he would be gone by the time she was returning downstairs. Moving carefully, she walked across the room, staying as close to the wall as possible to avoid his sight. She disappeared back the way she came, carefully avoiding the other mercenary on her way back downstairs. On the first floor, luck was still on her side and the coast was clear. The lock on the gate surprisingly gave her no trouble and the door swung open silently, allowing her to disappear further into the estate.

She moved into the dusty basement, the only floor she hadn't checked yet. There were two mercenaries deep in conversation in the next room over and she quickly skirted by them, taking the twists and turns through the warren of corridors. Where was the safe? The longer she was in the house the more nervous she was that she would be discovered.

Finally she came to a long hallway. At it's end a scruffy looking man slouched in a chair. Beyond him lay stairs deeper into the bowels of the house. Given his position, that was likely where the safe had been stored. There was no way she was going to get past him.

Reaching into her bag, she fished out the potion of invisibility that Brynjolf had given her for dealing with the shopkeepers a few weeks back. She moved up behind the man as close as she dared, close enough to smell the scent of stale sweat mixed with soured mead. She almost retched but quickly quelled her distaste, drinking the potion and throwing the empty bottle towards the far corner of the room, away from the stairs. The man jumped to his feet at the sound of bottle shattering and pulled out his sword. As he moved to investigate the noise, Ariana padded past him and down the stairs.

Finally, she saw the safe, nestled snugly at the very back wall of the basement. The room seemed to be the main storage for the estate, with money scattered atop barrels and trunks. Grinning, she picked up the gold and used the key she had stolen to open her prize. Inside was a paltry sum of money and a bill of sale. Ariana frowned, Mercer was not going to like this news. She only hoped he wouldn't take his resulting bad temper out on her.

Now wasn't the time to think of the rancorous Guild Master. Looking up towards the ceiling, she could hear heavy booted feet coming towards the stairs and she knew she wouldn't be able to go back that way. She only had one invisibility potion. If she didn't get out of here fast, she'd likely to be getting uncomfortably friendly with the business end of a blade.

Off to the side she saw another gate with a trap door. Praying to the Divines, she passed through the gate and stood over the hatch. She opened it up and the smell alone was enough to tell her it would take her back to the sewer. With one last look behind her, Ariana jumped back down into the rank tunnels and traversed them as quickly as she could, anxious to be off the island back in Riften.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Returning to town, she all but ran back to the Cistern, shifting her weight from foot to foot impatiently as the excruciatingly slow crypt door opened. Once inside she headed straight to Brynjolf.

He was not happy. "Maven's furious! I told you not to burn more than three of the hives! How could you have made such a mess of things?"

Ariana hung her head. "I… I thought… I'm sorry."

He sighed deeply, features evening out. "I've smoothed things over with her for now, but you can forget your cut."

"Yes Brynjolf," she whispered, feeling miserable.

He nudged her chin up with a finger, offering a small smile. She jerked away from his touch and he let his hand fall to his side. She thought she saw the briefest flicker of disappointment in his eyes but quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

"What did you find in the safe?"

Wordlessly, she presented him the money and the letter. He closed her hand over the coinpurse, pressing it back toward her, but took the piece of paper. "Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What's that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal, but I'm certain he'll find out." He shook his head, examining the paper closely. "There's no name on this certificate, only a symbol. Any idea what it might mean?"

She leaned in, ignoring how close she was to the Nord and frowned at the symbol beneath his finger. "No idea. Never seen it before."

"Blast. I'll check my sources and speak to Mercer. But for now, you're off to meet with Maven Black-Briar. She asked for you by name."

Ariana's stomach plummeted, remembering Brynjolf's first words to her.

"What does she want from me?"

"That's between you and Maven. And I prefer to keep it that way." He seemed to notice her unease and patted her on her shoulder. "Relax, Ariana. Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a bit of gold for her people. If she wanted you dead, you'd have already know by the knife in your chest."

Ariana nodded, unconvinced. There was no way Maven would offer her a job, not after how dismally she had failed at Goldenglow. Then she reminded herself she didn't want that kind of work anyway, so it didn't matter; she needed the contacts, nothing more. "Where will I be meeting her?"

"Upstairs, at the Bee and Barb, but not now." She was acutely aware of his eyes as they skimmed down her body, and she made an effort to stand up a little straighter. "Why don't you get some sleep, lass?" he suggested lightly. "You look terrible."

She gave him a smile that probably looked as weak as it felt and headed towards her bed. She paused to look back at Brynjolf as he leaned over Mercer's desk; the guild master was furious and Ariana didn't envy the Nord for having to listen to the tirade. Her mistake certainly didn't help matters. With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled off her boots. The blankets were soft and warm, and it didn't take long before she succumbed to the pull of sleep.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

She was on the road to Whiterun the very next day. Maven had solicited her to take care of some competition in the area, and Delvin had given her a special job - a favor for one of his contacts, and her first opportunity to make someone disappear. She wasn't entirely sure what that would entail, but she knew that being back in Whiterun on Thieves Guild business was going to be strange.

She stretched back in the carriage, enjoying the feeling of warm sunlight on her face for a change. It had been a long time since she had be out in the day, a side effect of joining up with thieves. Ariana shook her head, looking out at Skyrim. She had made a decision back in Cyrodiil, years ago, that she would never get tangled up with this kind of business again. How had it come to this? Sure, it paid well, but while her brother had taken to it like a fish to water, stealing had never sat right with her. Her mind travelled back to home and her brother's sorry fate, locked in a cell for the rest of his life. When Brynjolf had said larceny was in her blood, he didn't know just how right he had been.

Ariana looked up into the pale blue sky, on the lookout for any large shadows flying above. The practice had become routine by now and she saw a dragon almost every time she went on the road. Their numbers were growing and her time was already running short. So many people had lost their lives, yet here she was, sitting in a carriage to visit Honningbrew Meadery for Maven Black-Briar. Ariana felt disgusted with herself, and worse still, guilty. She knew what she needed to do, but she was lost at how. She only knew she didn't have a choice. If finding an Elder Scroll meant having to team up with the Thieves Guild for a time, it was just something she was going to have to deal with. She only wished that Brynjolf would get her the information faster.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

It had been a month since the Goldenglow job and there was neither hide nor hair of the Imperial woman Brynjolf had recruited. Delvin had received word two weeks ago that Olfrid Battle-born had pledged his full support to the guild thanks to the work Ariana had done, but the lass hadn't returned. Even Maven had spoken highly of what she had accomplished at Honningbrew Meadery and noted, with no little amount of irritation, that the Imperial hadn't returned with the information from Honningbrew's safe.

Something wasn't right. The red-haired Nord made his way to the Ragged Flagon. He needed to talk to Vex and Delvin.

Entering the tavern, he gestured the two of them over to a table.

"What's on your mind Bryn?" Delvin asked, taking a long pull from the mug that he had brought over, wiping the froth from his upper lip as he set it down.

"You two didn't give Ariana any other jobs when she went off to Whiterun, did you?"

Vex shook her head. "I heard Delvin had a special job for her, I told her to talk to me after she was done."

Delvin frowned, "I only gave her the special job. Why?"

"No one has seen or heard from her her since she left for Whiterun."

Delvin let out a low whistle and Vex crossed her arms, her sharp features pulling into a scowl. "Think she ditched?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "She needs Guild resources too much. Something's wrong."

Nuirin came into the room, walking up to their table. "Delvin, you have a moment?"

"Gimme a minute, would ya?" Delvin glanced up at Nuirin, dismissing him and turning his attention back to Brynjolf. "Where'd you think she'd have gone, Bryn?"

"I don't know. Skyrim's a large province and Ariana has no shortage of secrets."

"Wait, you're looking for that new Imperial recruit?" Nuirin interjected.

Brynjolf turned to look at the elf. "Yeah, do you know something about it?"

He nodded. "I saw her in Markarth a couple weeks back. She was arrested for murder, in the temple no less. Rumor has it they were taking her to Cidhna Mine."

Brynjolf felt like someone had doused him with ice water. "Murder? That.. doesn't sound like her."

Nuirin nodded gravely, "Saw them take her away with my own two eyes."

Delvin clapped Brynjolf on the back and touched Vex's elbow, both of them moving to another table, leaving him to his thoughts. Staring down at his hands, he tried to make sense of Nuirin's words. It didn't make any sense. _Why would Ariana murder someone? _Worse, what did she have to do it in Markarth of all places? The guild had no connections in that blasted city; they disavowed anyone who tried to pull a job within twenty miles of it since their luck turned sour, and for good reason.

Cidhna Mines. Nobody ever returned from the mines.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The rest of the day passed in a blur. By nightfall, Brynjolf was deep into his sixth tankard of mead, or was it his seventh? Either way, it wasn't going to be his last. Maybe Vekel had been right. Maybe things had finally changed, and there was no more space in this world for thieves. He looked down into his tankard, displeased to find it empty. He looked up for the bartender and found Vekel was no where to be seen. Was it that late already?

Whatever the hour, it was time for more mead. With a grunt, he pushed away from the bar, and room tipped dangerously. Brynjolf grabbed one of the stools to steady himself. _Maybe bed would be a better idea... _There was a crash on the other side of the room as the door to the Flagon slammed open and he heard something fall at the far side of the room. Brynjolf's pleasant drunken stupor ebbed as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He heard a pained groan and he cautiously padded over, hand on the hilt of his dagger.

Just inside the doorway was what looked like a heap of rags. They shifted as as the figure underneath them attempted to push themselves upright. The effort was obvious, slender hands clenching at the stone floor, muscles shaking with exertion. Green eyes met blue, and Brynjolf was speechless at the mess of bruises and cuts before him.

"Ariana?"

"Byrnjolf," she whispered through cracked lips. _By the Eight she sounds tired. _Slipping an arm around her shoulders to support her, he tried to assess the damage. She had been beaten, and beaten soundly. One eye was completely swollen shut, the other lost in a mottle of purple and black. An open gash oozed blood down her cheek and her mouth was a bloody tatter. Her armor was ripped, ragged and even singed in places.

He couldn't tell the full extent of her injuries, but he could tell enough to know that they were painful. He swallowed hard against the sudden hard lump that had formed in his throat. "I was told you were trapped in Cidhna, lass. How…?"

She clutched at the wall, trying to get to her feet. "It's not important. I just… wanted to let you know … that I was okay."

Brynjolf wasn't sure what to call the emotion that shot through him at those words. Before he could put a name to it, she staggered, legs folding beneath her. He caught her before she hit the floor, wincing as her pained yelp pierced his ears. "Whoa, easy there lass. Let me help you to your bed."

She shook her head, shoving at his chest. "No! I don't want to be underground!"

"All right, alright. You don't have to be," he soothed. "But you need to rest. How's this, we'll grab you a room in the inn and you can talk to me in the morning?"

Watching him warily, she said nothing, but allowed him help her to her feet.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf barely slept that night. Getting Ariana out of her armor and into the bed had been a struggle in itself. Unable to undress herself and unwilling to allow him to do it, Ariana had sat mutely on the edge of the straw mattress, staring at her hands until Brynjolf had taken them gently into his own. "It needs to be done, lass, whether you like it or not."

When she had finally acquiesced, undoing the straps and buckles of her armor had caused a multitude of pained whimpers and hissed curses. Then the armor was off and she was hunkered on the bed wearing only her small clothes, seeming to curl in on herself. It was all he could do not to gape. There was no place on her body that was left unmarred, pale skin transformed into a mural of torture. Mottled bruises were crisscrossed with red-lipped wounds, and a litany of angry-looking scars. Fighting the urge to hunt down whoever had done this to her and beat them into a bloody pulp, he had guided the Imperial woman into bed. Keeping his eyes dutifully averted as he covered her battered body with a blanket, Ariana managed to whisper a slurred expression of gratitude before sleep took her.

Watching the sun slowly rise over Riften, Brynjolf picked up the mug from the table and took a sip of water. He was beginning to feel the effects last night, a throbbing headache settling in behind his eyes. He glanced over to where Ariana still slept, face troubled. A little food and water would do them both good.

Keerava paused wiping down the bar to glare at him as he came down the stairs. Brynjolf ignored her obvious distaste, tossing a few gold coins onto the bar. "Breakfast. Now."

The Argonian innkeeper complied, though Brynjolf could swear he heard the lizard hiss at him before thrusting a plate of bread and cheese at him, quickly returning to her duties.

Closing the door to the rented room with his foot, he set down the plate of food and pulled his chair next to Ariana's bed. If possible, she looked even worse in the daylight. The bruises stood out in stark relief on her face, and he could see five yellowing ovals around the base of her neck. He realized with a nauseating jolt that they were fingerprints - someone had choked her. Black rage propelled him out of his chair and he paced the length of the room. Through all the questions that were swirling through his mind, one kept resurfacing. _What had she been doing in Markarth?_ He rubbed his beard and leaned against the side of the window his rage ebbing as quickly as it had flared. The only person who could answer that was her.

Ariana slept through most of the day, waking just long enough to sip a little water at Brynjolf's urging now and again. Now, the afternoon sun was warm and Brynjolf's hangover had mostly dissipated. Checking to ensure that Ariana was sleeping peacefully, he decided to risk a trip to the Cistern.

When he arrived, Mercer waved him over to his desk. "Any news on Goldenglow's mysterious buyer?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "None of my contacts recognized the mark and I haven't been able to find anything on it."

Mercer grunted his displeasure, still not looking up from the ledger. "What about your Imperial?"

Though his tone was light, Brynjolf knew the keen look in Mercer's eyes well enough to know that he was trolling for information. Word spread fast in Riften. "She came in last night. Rented a room in the Bee and the Barb from what I heard."

"So why hasn't she come down here then?" Mercer growled. "Surely the girl'll be needing money to pay for her room."

"The lass is injured, she can barely stand-"

"Is that why you've been there all day?" Mercer leveled a sharp glare at Brynjolf. "Don't tell me I have another Gallus and Karliah on my hands! You want to tumble in the straw with her to get her out of your system, by all means. But don't get attached. Guild romances never work out."

Brynjolf scowled as Mercer returned to his books. Tending to the bloody mess upstairs hardly made him think of a tumble, much less romance. And she was even less likely to become involved than he was. The very idea was laughable.

Still, memory of her body in his arms as he'd carried her to bed, and the way his hands had trembled as he had dismantled her armor last night made him wonder about her. How her skin would feel, how she would taste if he kissed her... He quickly shook the thought out of his head. Now wasn't the time for this foolishness. He headed towards the Flagon to get some supplies from Tonilia.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The sun was setting when Ariana finally woke with a jolt, followed immediately by a cry of pain. Brynjolf set down the knife he was sharpening and came to her side. "Calm down, lass. You're safe now," he said, smoothing a strand of hair out of her face and reaching into his pocket. "Here, take this." He handed her a cruet filled with shimmering red liquid.

She looked at it skeptically, hand going to her her split lip.

"I know, lass, but take it anyway," he said sternly.

She meekly uncorked the bottle and swallowed its contents, grimacing. "All these years and Tonilia can't find a way to make this swill taste better?"

"Probably not," he chuckled.

"Have… you been here all day?" she asked, turning the now empty bottle over in her hands.

He shook his head, noticing that several of her knuckles were purple and scabbed over. "Had to head down to the Cistern for a bit. Mercer's not pleased with your absence." _Or me looking after you for that matter._

She winced at the mention of the guild master, but didn't reply.

Brynjolf looked at her seriously. "Now, are you going to tell me what in Oblivion happened to you lass? What were you even doing in Markarth? And how did you end up in Cidhna?"

She sighed, looking down at her lap. "I had just finished the job in Whiterun for Delvin when a courier stopped me. Some researcher named Calcelmo needed someone to come to Markarth to give him an arrow, of all things. I figured, 'why not?'.

"The city…" She paused. "When it comes to corruption, Markarth is worse than Riften. I wasn't there long, but I certainly saw the extent of it."

Brynjolf raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

She ignored his question, and continued speaking. "I got into the city with the full intent to just hand over an arrow and talk to an innkeeper for Bolli."

"The fisherman?" he interjected.

Ariana looked at him, her good eye narrowed. "Yes the fisherman. Would you let me speak?"

He made a broad gesture. "By all means, lass."

"I had barely gotten into the city when I saw a woman murdered. It happened so fast; the man was crazed, shouting about the Forsworn, waving his blade around. One of the other witnesses ... Eltrys, his name was Eltrys," she paused, taking a deep breath. "He came up to me and wanted me to meet him in the shrine of Talos - did you know they still had one of those in Markarth?"

Brynjolf shook his head mutely and Ariana continued. "When I met up with him, he told me that these attacks were nothing new. He had spent his entire life trying to find out about the Forsworn. He asked me to investigate, told me he'd pay for anything I managed to find out. I thought it would be an easy way to make a few Septims.

"I should have known better than to get involved. I should have known to stop looking when the Silver-bloods were brought into it. But I've never been good about curbing my curiosity," she gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Next thing I know, Eltrys is dead and the guards…" Ariana looked up at Brynjolf, a gamut of emotions running across her face. "They framed me. They threw me into the mine…"

She looked away, swiping at her eyes. Brynjolf raised his hand to comfort her, but Mercer's words rang through in his head and he thought better of it. "It's alright lass," he said instead. "You don't have to talk about anything that you don't want to."

She nodded, sucking in a deep breath. "I had heard the name Madanach mentioned a few times while I was gathering information for Eltrys. Apparently he had been locked up in Cidhna for years. Plenty of time to get a good set up. He even had an orc guarding his door, said I had to pay the toll to get in."

"What toll?" Brynjolf had heard rumors of the mine, and the idea of a toll made his blood run cold.

Ariana offered him a wan smile, and dismissed his worry with a shake of her head. "He wanted a shiv. Shivs and skooma, that's the currency down there. I didn't even know where to find them. I tried to talk to the other prisoners, but they … they weren't interested in talking." He didn't miss her shudder.

"I…" she started, but quickly closed her mouth. She looked directly at Brynjolf and he was surprised at the determination in her eyes. "I did what I had do to get out of there."

"Lass, I-"

She wrapped her hands around the blankets, clenching her fists. "I killed a man."

"What?"

"A thief. He was the one who gave me the shiv. He also did this," she gestured to her throat. "I went right up to him and slit his. Then I stabbed him in his heart, over and over and over…" Ariana was crying in earnest now, sobs wracking her body.

Mercer could go right to Oblivion and stay there. Brynjolf slid onto the bed next to her, pulling her close to him and holding tight as she wept.

When the storm had passed, he looked down at her. "Lass, if this is too much..."

"It's almost over now." She said, pulling away from him. "I managed to convince Madanach to leave at night, that there'd be less resistance. I should have killed him instead, but I needed him."

"Where were the guards in all this?"

She laughed. "The guards don't care what happens down in the mine so long as they get their silver. If you're thrown in Cidhna, you're in there till death. No one cares if it comes sooner than it should have."

Brynjolf frowned at his newly uncovered side of the Imperial, but kept silent, allowing her story to continue.

"When we finally got out of the caverns, Thornor Silver-blood was waiting for us. Madanach claimed responsibility for all the attacks, clearing my name. But everyone who escaped from the mine was a target for the guards. Only a handful of us got out of the city alive. And then... I came back to Riften."

The Nord sat back, silent. There were no words for what she had just told him. No answer for the terrible ordeal she had survived.

Ariana looked towards the window, absently smoothing the covers over her body. "You know… I never did get that arrow to Calcelmo."


	7. Thane of the Rift

A/N: I'd love to see what you guys think of the story, please don't be shy! Your reviews make my day.

Ariana took the long route to the Cistern the next day. Last night was the first night since she had returned from the mine that she hadn't woke in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, with her heart slamming against her ribs. Yet, despite the full night of rest, her body was stiff and sore.

She hadn't told Brynjolf everything about what happened over the past month, not by a long shot. There had been details she had very carefully left out, particularly the one where on her way back to Riften she had been attacked by a dragon that had very nearly killed her. The creature had appeared out of the clouds just as she'd begun staggering across an open plain. Fending it off had taken almost all of her waning strength, and all but one of her arrows. Luckily she had been close enough to Riften that she was able to hobble through the gates and down to the Flagon before she collapsed. If she had been further away… Ariana didn't want to even consider it.

A slight smile came to her lips unbidden at the thought of the red-haired Nord. Brynjolf had been in her room when she woke that morning, sleeping in the chair his head propped up on his arm. He looked terrible, and she knew he had forgone his own rest to care for her.

When she got to the Flagon, she wasn't surprised to discover that Delvin had already heard about her success in Whiterun. What did surprise her was his rebuff when she asked for jobs.

"Talk to Mercer first," he'd said, face impassive. His cryptic reply only served to make her nervous as she entered the Cistern. She saw Brynjolf at Mercer's desk; they seemed to be in a heated debate, but Mercer cut the conversation short when she approached them.

"The capricious Imperial returns." There was no mistaking the disdain in his tone. "Was I somehow unclear when I explained how things operate around here?"

Ariana squared her shoulders, trying to keep her anger below the surface. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," he warned. "What did you find at Honningbrew?"

She handed him the note and the Breton quickly skimmed through it, brows furrowing together and Ariana knew he was seeing the same mark that had appeared on the document from Goldenglow. "So our mysterious buyer strikes again. This is no coincidence. Whoever they are, they're trying to cripple us through Maven Black-Briar. Very clever."

"You admire them?" The question slipped out before Ariana could stop herself.

"They're well-funded and they've been able to avoid identification for years. I'm impressed it reached this point," he admitted, giving her a sharp look. "However, don't mistake my respect for complacency; our nemesis is going to pay dearly."

Even though Mercer was speaking calmly, Ariana could feel the rage radiating off of him. "How?"

"Because, even after all their posturing and planning, they've made a mistake," he explained. The Breton read over the note again before giving her a calculated look. "Now, I might have considered you for this job before you skipped out on us, but I need someone reliable to get this done."

"Of course," she replied, taking this as her cue to leave.

"I'm not done with you yet girl," Mercer called out, stopping Ariana in her tracks. "I expect you to work twice as hard to bring in coin for us to make up for the time you lost. And your cut goes directly to the guild for the next month."

"Yes Mercer," she said, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. She had expected some sort of retribution for her absence, but working for free had not crossed her mind.

"What was that?" He asked, tone smug.

Ariana whirled and slapped both palms flat on the desk, ignoring the pain that shot through her injuries. "I said, yes. Mercer." She was glaring daggers at the man, wishing she could Shout the smirk right off of his face. "May I go now, _sir_?"

He leaned in close to her, their noses almost touching, and she fought the urge to recoil. "Did you want to fight me, little girl?"

This time she did jerk away from him, her eyes wide.

Mercer stepped back, crossing his arms. "That's what I thought. Now, get out of my sight."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf watched on as Mercer goaded Ariana, working to keep his face impassive. That quick temper of hers was going to get her in a lot of trouble if she didn't watch herself. Mercer seemed to get a kick out of intimidating the Imperial and Brynjolf inwardly winced every time she rose to the other man's bait. But he knew better to challenge his Guild Master. The Nord drew himself out of his thoughts at Mercer's chuckle.

"I can see why you like her." Mercer said, watching as Ariana stalked away, fists clenched at her sides. "She's very... expressive."

Brynjolf grunted noncommittally, examining the letter the Breton had discarded on his desk.

"Still," Mercer continued thoughtfully, "she needs to understand who's in charge around here. I expect you to remind her of her place Brynjolf."

"Of course," he agreed.

"Now, we need someone to go speak with Gulum-Ei, preferably someone who can be… persuasive, if necessary. Is Thrynn available?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "He's out on a job for Maven. Rune should be getting back today though."

Mercer laughed. "Rune? That boy couldn't frighten a fly." The Breton looked through his ledger, tracing his finger down the page. "Etienne hasn't done many jobs recently."

"He's not going to want to go back to Solitude after the Thalmor," Brynjolf warned.

"Fine, but I want you to talk to him. I run a business, not a charity," Mercer groused.

"What about Cynric?"

The Breton shrugged. "Good enough I suppose. Give him the details, I want this done quickly. Oh, and Brynjolf?"

The Nord paused at his words.

"I know you have a soft spot for that girl, but if she doesn't play by our rules she won't be here much longer. Are we clear?"

"Yes Mercer."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

After relaying the Mercer's message to Cynric, Brynjolf headed to the Flagon. He wasn't surprised to hear that Ariana had already gone, working a job. Or, as he was told upon sitting down at the bar, six jobs at once.

"Wish I had been in the Cistern to see Mercer tear a strip out of her," Vex grinned, eyes glittering and hard. Her malicious glee was short lived though, melting away under the scathing heat of Brynjolf's glare.

The Nord took a pull from his mug of mead. "Where is she headed?"

"Can't speak for Delvin, but I gave her jobs in Riften," she said with a shrug. "Figured Mercer wouldn't want her out roaming just yet after that stunt she pulled."

Brynjolf grunted and turned to speak Delvin, but was interrupted when Rune slunk into the bar, shoulders drooping. "Rune, what happened to you lad?"

"I, uh, got caught by some bandits on the way back from Whiterun," he muttered, reddening.

"And the goods?" Vex's face was taut, smoky eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Gone. All gone."

The blond woman threw her hands in the air. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" She fixed Rune with a withering glare. "No goods, no payment."

He nodded miserably and Brynjolf gently patted his shoulder. "Go get cleaned up lad. Get some rest. There'll be more jobs."

"Not if he keeps screwing them up there won't!"

Brynjolf glared back at Vex as Rune shuffled out of the room, head hung low. Delvin spoke up, "I'm telling you, the Guild's cursed."

"Oh, not this swill again!" Vex spat.

"How else do you explain all the jobs going sour round here?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "Bad luck happens, Delvin. It doesn't mean there's a curse."

"Believe what you want, Bryn," his friend said, turning back to his drink.

Brynjolf didn't reply, staring into his mug. He hated to admit it, but with the ways things were going around here, Delvin might actually have a point. The only one who had managed to bring in any kind of real money in the last few weeks was Ariana. Even seasoned professionals seemed to be going soft. Brynjolf shook away the thought. A master thief would lose their edge if they got complacent. Things had just been too easy for the Guild for too long, that was all.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

He was still sitting in the Flagon when Ariana rushed back in from her jobs around midnight. She quickly offloaded her spoils to Vex, agreeing to come back in the morning for more jobs. Turning to Delvin, she seemed somewhat miffed he also wouldn't have any work for her until the morning. She was all set to run out the door again when Brynjolf stood up in her path and she almost bumped into him.

"Oh, Brynjolf! Sorry, I have to go-"

"Why are you in such a hurry lass?" He walked with her towards the door to the Ratways, away from the other members of the Guild in the Flagon. In the corner of the floor, barely noticeable, was a smear of blood, marking where she had collapsed just two days ago.

"Lots to do," she replied impatiently. "The Jarl wants me to go check out a cave nearby for skooma dealers."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. He wasn't blind; he had seen that she hadn't gone through the Cistern since Mercer had spoken to her, even though it'd be faster than traversing the Ratways. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Ariana raised a brow. "Brynjolf, I'm not about to fall apart. I'm sure you'll agree I look much better today."

That he couldn't argue. Most of the bruising had faded away and the cuts were almost completely healed. He had to give Tonilia credit, her potions were nothing short of miraculous. But he could see the dark shadows under her eyes, and the sharpened angles of her face. "Still, I don't like the idea of-"

"Then it's a good thing I don't need your permission," she said expression turning cold as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Ariana-"

"No, Brynjolf. You need to understand a thing or two." She punctuated her displeasure with a finger poking against his chest. "You may have stuck to the shadows for most of your life, but I haven't had that luxury. And with Mercer taking away what little cut I used to get, I have to find other ways to get money. If that means I take on a bounty for a dragon, or go after skooma dealers, then that's what I've got to do."

"You… didn't seriously go after a dragon today, did you?"

"Why don't you ask Anuriel next time you're up at Mistvale Keep?" The Imperial rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, her frustration seeming to wane. "Look, I … appreciate what you did for me. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else in the Guild to have seen me in that state. But an evening of care doesn't make me a helpless damsel in need of rescuing."

It took a full ten seconds of shock before Brynjolf recovered his voice. "Fine lass, whatever you want."

She gave him a veiled smile, raising a hand, giving him a chance to see the golden light sitting in her palm. "Don't worry about me." She released the spell and the shimmering light surrounded her. When it dissipated, her bruises had faded even further, with the cuts completely gone.

"And where'd you learn that trick?"

"Bruma," she said curtly. "Now if you excuse me, I have some bandits to kill before I go to bed."

He stared after her as she left the tavern. He still had no idea what to make of her. A pang of guilt hit him. If she knew he hadn't even started looking for that Scroll for her… _I'll look into it tomorrow_, he promised himself. Maybe this time he'd mean it.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Soft morning light filtered through the roof of the Cistern, bringing a faint glow to what was once called the city below Riften. Brynjolf rolled over in his bed, half hoping to catch sight of the Imperial woman before she woke. Her bed was empty and neatly made. He frowned. Around him, he could hear the sounds of other Guild members waking, and he pushed himself out of bed. Pulling on his merchant's clothes, he decided to visit the market today in hopes of finding his charge. Ariana's words last night, droll as they had been, left him wanting to know for sure what kind of danger she was putting herself in.

He hadn't gotten far from the crypt when he spotted Maven Black-Briar. The woman usually appeared cold, but today she looked downright glacial and she was headed straight for him. _Perfect._

"Maven," he said with a practiced smile.

"I thought I told you to watch that girl of yours," she glared. "That Imperial waltzes back into town and next thing I hear she's thane of the Rift?"

"What?" Brynjolf stepped back, astounded. "Are you sure it's the same girl?"

"I was there when it happened! The woman kills a couple of dragons and then Laila is head over heels for this slack wit."

A _couple_ of dragons? What in Oblivion had Ariana been up to?

Maven looked skyward, voice full of contempt. "Keep a closer eye on her in future. I don't want to find myself dealing with a new Jarl next."

"Of course." He was still reeling as the head of the Black-Briars disappeared into the Keep. Of all the things he was expecting to hear that morning, Ariana becoming the new thane of the Rift was not one of them. According to Vex and Delvin, she had been waiting for them at the Flagon before the sun had come up, demanding new jobs.

Looking down to the far gate, he spotted her, kneeling in front of a door. She looked around quickly before slipping into the house. Brynjolf strolled over to the doorway, leaning against the wall as he waited for her to emerge. A few minutes later, she stepped back out into the street, carefully locking the door behind her.

"Good mornin' lass. You've been busy."

She jumped, placing a hand on her chest. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

He chuckled and she sent him an unamused glare. Sobering, he turned away from the building she had just robbed, making his way down an alley and allowing her the chance to distance herself from the crime scene. "What's this I hear about you becoming thane?"

"Oh. That." A flush spread across her cheeks. "The Jarl just really appreciated me helping people out. It's not like I asked for it."

"Is it going to affect your work with the Guild?"

"No, no," Ariana shook her head. "There's not much to it. Plus I've got Honeyside now, so-"

"You bought a house?" he asked, but held up a hand before she could respond. To think she had been complaining last night about Mercer taking her cut. "Actually, I don't want to know. Just make sure you don't go running off anywhere any time soon. Mercer won't be nearly as forgiving the next time."

She let out a snort. "Right. Forgiving. Look, Brynjolf, as much as I would _love _to discuss our Guild Master all day, I have work to do."

He gestured to the street. "By all means lass."

Brynjolf watched the sway of her hips as she walked away, fighting the urge to go with her. The circles under her eyes had darkened further, and he wondered if she had been getting any sleep in the last few days.

Unfortunately, he had his own responsibilities within the Guild, and Mercer wasn't about to let him disappear for too long. Maybe, if there wasn't so much in the way… The Nord quickly dismissed the errant thought. The Guild Master had been right. Relationships only hurt the Guild and Brynjolf wasn't about to screw things up. He could be her mentor, perhaps her friend, but nothing more. He just wished that reality didn't ache so badly.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

It was early evening when Ariana returned to the Ragged Flagon, looking weary and worn. She seemed amused by the crowd by the bar, but made no effort to join them. Brynjolf watched as she handed off her haul to Vex and exchanged words with Delvin. She was three steps away from exiting the tavern again when Vipir shouted towards her.

"There you are newblood! Come have a drink with us!"

She froze on the spot, eyes going wide. "Uh, I don't really drink…"

Vipir grinned. "All the more reason to start!"

Despite her protests, Rune wrapped an arm around her shoulder and directed her to a bar stool between Thrynn and Vipir. A flagon was thrust in her hands and the men waited expectantly. She hesitantly brought it to her lips and took a sip.

"Come on now, have a real drink!" Thrynn jibed.

Sending him a sidelong glare, she took a swig from the flagon, grimacing. The man chuckled at her expression and Vipir clapped her back. "So, what do you think of Maven's famous Black-Briar mead?"

"It's a little tart," she said and the men burst into laughter.

"We could see if Vekel has any wine," Rune suggested.

Ariana shook her head. "No, if you're drinking mead, I'll drink mead. I just hope it tastes better after the first one."

"That's the spirit!" roared Thrynn.

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair. From his vantage point, he had the perfect view of the bar, which meant he could keep a close eye on the situation. It wasn't that he didn't trust the men, he just didn't trust them with **her**. Still, if she was going to be in the Guild, she needed to actually join them, rather than hiding herself off in some dark corner.

The night wore steadily on, and Ariana seemed to finally be relaxing. She was on her fourth flagon of mead, not that Brynjolf had been counting, and was laughing at something Vipir had said. When the man leaned in to kiss her, she pushed him away with a sloppy smile, nearly falling off her stool in the process. Rune caught her and hoisted her back up onto her seat.

Thrynn spoke up. "Where did you come from Ariana?"

"A little farm outside of Anvil. Nothing exciting," she said with a wave of her hand.

"So what are you doing in Skyrim?" asked Vipir.

She shrugged, taking another drink. "Would you believe I ran away from home seeking my fortune? Farming is terribly boring."

"You don't miss it at all?" asked Rune.

"It wouldn't be the same if I went back," she replied. Brynjolf almost didn't catch the words. Her good mood seemed to have faded away in a split second, and the men picked up on it.

"So, did I tell you the story about how I fought four trolls-"

"Vipir, your stories are garbage," Thrynn muttered in annoyance. Ariana gave a slight chuckle, downing the rest of her tankard.

"What's a girl got to do to get another drink around here?" she interjected, effectively shutting up his fellow Nords. Brynjolf looked on in amusement as they fought each other over who would buy her another stein of mead, completely missing Rune smiling slyly as he handed her a drink behind their backs. Rune always had been a smart lad.

"You just gonna sit and stare at her all night?" Delvin spoke up.

The red-haired man didn't spare his friend a glance. The old thief had shown up a few hours back, sitting beside Brynjolf in companionable silence as the two drank. "Probably," Brynjolf replied after a moment.

Delvin sighed. "Come on Bryn, go talk to the girl! You're not going to be getting anywhere by boring holes in the back of her head."

At that moment Ariana looked over at their table, and Brynjolf raised his tankard towards her with a faint smile. The Imperial sent a grin back to him, the colour in her cheeks making her look younger and more carefree. Feeling defeated, he looked down into the half full tankard.

"I'm telling you mate, you gotta talk to her."

"And how well has that worked out for you and Vex?" The bitter questions was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Delvin shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the hostile words. "At least she knows I'm interested. May not be a requited feeling, but I'm not sitting watching her 'cross the room instead of making a move." Brynjolf snorted and the Breton sighed, standing up. "Fine. Just a word of advice from an old man. And now this old man going to bed."

The Nord took a drink of his mead, grimacing as he realized it was warm. He hadn't really been in the mood to drink in the first place. He watched from his table as Rune disappeared into the Cistern, cheerfully wishing his Guildmates a good night.

The remaining three sat at the bar for a time longer, chatting and laughing like old friends - though Brynjolf couldn't miss how close Vipir was leaning to the Ariana, how he was reaching out to touch her arm… Brynjolf gripped the handle of his tankard so hard his knuckles hurt.

It was Thrynn who ruined the moment. "Heard you were in Cidhna. How'd you get out?"

Brynjolf froze, immediately remembering the state Ariana was had been when she got had returned Riften. Of course, none of the other members of the Guild had seen her until that night. None of them had any inclination of what she had been through. He waited with baited breath for her response.

"Can't tell all my secrets, now can I?" she replied with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, I'd make you sing like a canary." Vipir leaned in, eyes sparkling. "I'd make you sing all night long."

Thrynn laughed heartily. "More like he'd get you to the first chorus."

Brynjolf ground his teeth, striving to contain his temper. He clenched his fists, itching to wrap them around Vipir's neck. Although Ariana laughed at Thrynn's jab, she pulled away from Vipir, a momentary look of unease crossing her face.

"Anyway boys," she said as she stood up carefully, "it's late, and I'm going to bed."

"My offer stands," Vipir remarked lecherously.

"I think you'd have more luck with Sapphire," she threw back over her shoulder.

Thrynn clapped the gaping Nord on his back, laughing loudly.

As the Imperial turned away, and Brynjolf saw her bright smile crumble and could tell she was struggling to contain her emotions. She all but ran from the Flagon out into the Ratways. Unnoticed, Brynjolf followed after her.

He found her just outside the tavern, leaning up against a wall in the darkness, tears streaming down her face. "Lass…" he whispered, moving to her side.

"I don't… I don't want your pity," she said between hiccupping sobs.

"How about my comfort?" he offered softly, reaching out to her.

She weakly pushed him away through her tears, eventually relenting and relaxing into his arms.

Ariana turned her bright blue eyes up to look at him. "Why are you doing this Brynjolf? Why do you care?"

He found himself unable to look away from her piercing gaze, his voice was stuck in his throat. He was struck with how vulnerable she seemed, how her voice quivered with fear and loneliness. He wanted... he shouldn't…

But it was too late, her lips were set in a hard line and she shoved away from him, scrubbing at her eyes and stumbling down the corridor.

"Ariana…" he called, following after her.

She batted her hand backwards at him, not turning around. "No. Go away."

Brynjolf continued trailing along behind her, watching as she veered towards the walls and nearly fell over her own feet. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help!" she cried out. He watched as she paused to lean against a wall, slowly crumpling to the ground.

"Ariana, you're drunk," he said, offering her his hand

"I am not, I'm perfectly fine." She took his hand and allowed him to hoist her to her feet none the less.

"Come on lass, let's get you home."

Despite her earlier protests, she leaned heavily against him as he navigated them out of the Ratways and up into the city. It didn't take long to reach Honeyside and Brynjolf guided her inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Where's the bed, lass?"

"Round the corner," she mumbled, feet scuffing along the floor.

He carefully walked her through the house, watching as she unceremoniously slumped onto the bed. He expected her to lie down to sleep, but she pinned him with her gaze, eyes startlingly clear.

"Brynjolf..." Ariana paused. "What's going on here? I thought we… I thought this was just business."

He couldn't help the cold jolt that ran through him at her words. He sat down in the chair across from her, weighing what he was going to say next. "That's how it started, aye."

"Then why…" Seems he wasn't the only one struggling with what to say. "Why have you been helping me?"

He was tempted to give her a glib reply, to nip this in the bud. There was no shortage of men who would be interested in her. But the very thought of her with another set his blood boiling and he knew without a doubt that he was already in too deep. He looked her dead in the eye, whetting his lips nervously before he spoke again. "Because you matter to me, lass."


	8. Repercussions

A/N: Thanks to SpookedRabbits and the anonymous Guest for your reviews! I honestly forgot that anonymous reviews were still a thing to be honest.

Ariana woke in the morning with a blinding headache. "Holy Mother Mara," she groaned, rolling on to her side. The room began to tilt and whirl around her and the Imperial pulled her legs in tightly to ease the rocking of her stomach. "Ohhhh… I am never drinking again."

There was a soft chuckle nearby and Ariana jerked up, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she tried not to panic. She relaxed as she saw Brynjolf leaning against the wall to the side of her bed and immediately regretted moving so much, clasping her head in her hands as she sank back into the mattress. "Please tell me you know something to fix this," she moaned, swinging her arm up to block out the bright glare of morning. "A potion, a spell, anything?"

The red-haired man sat down on the side of her bed. "Sorry lass. Only thing I know that works is water, and time."

She made an indelicate sound. "Well can you at least tell the sun to shine a little less brightly?"

He laughed again and she found herself enjoying the sound. His voice was rich, with his soft accent coming through even in his laughter. With a frown, she pulled herself away from the thought. She needed to find an Elder Scroll and slay a dragon; nowhere in that equation was there room for romance. She wasn't even sure she was looking for that kind of thing anymore. Besides, it was more likely that Brynjolf wanted a quick tumble and nothing more. She looked up and found his eyes on her, his face unreadable. _You could get lost in eyes like that_, she thought absently, and another jolt of desire burst through her.

Alarmed, she turned away, making the mistake of looking directly out the window. The sunlight made her head throb and she averted her gaze towards the wall. Leaving was going to be hard enough without leaving a lover behind. She couldn't lose sight of her responsibilities. She gingerly pushed herself up so she was sitting in her bed. "Have you found anything out about the Elder Scroll?"

She almost missed his sharp intake of air.

"Not much lass," he said lowly. "The only thing I managed to dig up mentioned a few books located in the Mage's College in Winterhold. We used to have a contact in there, if you wanted to try to speak with him yourself."

Ariana shook her head quickly, then raised a hand to her temple, grimacing as the throbbing redoubled. "I'm not going anywhere near that place."

He looked as if he was going to ask about it, but shrugged instead. "I'll see what else I can find."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stood to go, pausing for a moment to look back at her before he left. "I recommend you take the morning to recover lass."

Her head snapped up to look at him. "But Mercer-"

"Can go straight to Oblivion and stay there. You're not going to be able to steal anything with a hangover." Given how her head was feeling, she had to admit that Brynjolf was right. "I'll check in on you a bit later. Don't come down to the Flagon until you can see straight."

He seemed reluctant to leave, and Ariana's traitorous heart leap in her chest. She didn't know what to say to him in response, and a moment later he was gone. She leant back against the headboard. It occurred to her that his presence this morning meant he had stayed over last night. _Where did he sleep? Did we…_ She was still dressed in her armor, so she dispelled that worry. Still, Ariana couldn't remember how she had gotten from the Flagon to Honeyside the night before, but he must have dragged her up here. She vaguely recalled running out of the tavern to cry in peace, but past that point, nothing.

She looked up to the ceiling, conflicting emotions swirling through her mind. It did nothing to help ease the nauseous tumble of her gut. Ariana squirmed back under the covers with a groan. "I am **never **drinking again."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Late evening found Ariana standing on the deck behind Honeyside. The Imperial watched as the sun set in a wash of colours; golds, pinks, purples, and oranges splashed against fluffy clouds and the palest blue sky. She had changed into a plain shirt and comfortable pants, leaving her hair down to dry into loose waves. Her headache had faded away over the course of the day, and she found herself in a pensive mood, slowly going over the events of her life that led her to this place. Her flight from her ruined home, the capture at the border, the chaos and death at Helgen, discovering she could steal the souls of dragons... The door to her home opened, cutting off her train of thought.

Her housecarl came out with an expression of distaste on her face. "That Nord is back, my thane."

"You can let him through here, Iona," she replied softly, leaning against the railing without looking away from Lake Honrich. The door shut again and Ariana let out a slow breath. She didn't have to wait long. The door opened behind her with a faint creak, followed by footsteps that came to a stop at her side.

"You seem to be doing better lass," spoke the accented voice to her right.

She smiled slightly, but didn't look at him. Ariana could feel his proximity to her like a fire and she shifted slightly away from the Nord. She licked her lips nervously, looking down at the railing she was leaning on. After a moment, she raised her head, but still found herself unable to face him. "I wanted to thank you for getting me back here last night."

She felt rather than saw him lean against the railing beside her. "Could hardly leave you to get home by yourself. You could barely walk."

Ariana ducked her head slightly, not sure if she was embarrassed that he had helped her or indignant that he thought she needed help. For the second time that day she wished she knew what his motivations were. The memory of him pinning her against the wall of the Bee and the Barb came to her unbidden and she shivered slightly.

"Are you cold lass? We could go inside."

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't want to miss the sunset."

"It is a sight," he murmured thoughtfully. She risked a glance in his direction and realized he was staring at her. Ariana bit down hard on her lower lip and turned to face the lake, face and ears burning. The expression reminded her too much of the looks the men in the mines had given her and suddenly she felt incredibly ill.

"I, uh, have to go… away… now." The words spilled from her, spat out by her panicked brain before she could stop them. Ariana tried to brush past him into her house but Brynjolf grabbed her arm, holding her in place. She wanted to demand that he let her go, but the words died on her tongue. His emerald eyes reminded her of when she first saw him in the Riften market all those months ago and she was frozen in his gaze, unable to move a muscle. _He's so close._

He reached down to cup her face with a hand, tilting her head up slightly as he closed the space between them. Ariana could swear her heart was about to burst out of her chest. He smelled like leather, woodsmoke and the piney sweetness of Frost Mirriam. His hand wrapped around to cradle the back of her neck and her eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against hers. She pressed her hands against his hips, as much to create distance as it was to hold on to him, stepping back for every step he moved forward. Soon she was aware of the press of the rough wood wall against her back and she reluctantly pushed him away. Her hands trembled against him and she tried to forget what had happened the last time someone had touched her in that way. Despite her reservations, Brynjolf's gentle touch ignited something in her, leaving her breathless as her entire body tightened with the rush of sensations and heat pooled between her legs.

He looked down at her, eyes dark. Abruptly, he took a step back and turned away. "I'll see you tomorrow, lass," he said over his shoulder, his voice rough. As she watched him leave, Ariana took in a deep breath to steady herself, still reeling from what had just transpired and the conflicting emotions that came with it. _This… complicates things._

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf pulled back on the bowstring and released a tense breath along with the arrow. He had hoped that training would help relieve the frustration that had been growing with each passing day. Ever since he had visited her home, the lass couldn't hold his gaze for more than a few seconds before she turned away, hiding her head as if he couldn't see the blush that spread across her cheeks. In the space of a kiss he had gone from seeing her almost daily to her avoiding him almost as adamantly as she avoided Mercer.

Draw… pull… release.

The arrow hit the target across the room with a satisfying thunk and Brynjolf drew another out of his quiver. She had thrown herself back into her work with vigor, taking on as many jobs as Vex and Delvin would let her. It seemed that she only showed up in the Flagon to hand off her loot before she'd run out again. It wasn't as if he didn't know where she'd run off to, it wasn't as if he couldn't follow her back to Honeyside, or keep track of her as she did her work around Riften. But the memory of her spurning his concern made him keep his distance. He grit his teeth.

Draw… pull… release.

Worse still were the dreams. The dreams that plagued him every night, with images of her silken skin beneath his fingertips, his lips devouring hers, her cries and panting breaths as he made her come undone… Every morning he awoke hard and hungry for her body was another day closer to madness.

Draw… pull… release.

He could still remember the feel of her lips against his, the way she had responded to his touch, how she had leaned against that wall, panting as he pulled away… Brynjolf shook his head. He had been right to leave, but he wished he hadn't. Not with how she refused to even look at him now. She was pulling away, and while he understood why, he couldn't deny that it hurt.

Draw… pull… release.

As he reached into his quiver, he realized he was out of arrows. With a disheartened sigh, discarded the bow and empty quiver onto one of the tables in the training room. The practice hadn't done anything to help relieve his tension and he was still stuck with the fact that he had screwed things up between them. Suddenly tired, he rubbed his jaw with a hand. He wanted advice. He wanted a drink.

Good thing he knew where to get both at the same time.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

"_Keep moving and I'll slit you from throat to clout." She had tried to push him off, get him away and he growled. "Hold still!" She clawed at the fingers around her throat, but couldn't get his sweaty, stinking hands off of her… _Ariana woke with a shout, covered in cold sweat. She looked up at the dark wooden roof and sank back into her bed, feeling sick. _Just a dream, it was just a dream._

The dreams had been coming to her every night since she fled Markarth. Fragments of her time in Cidhna, mixed with memories of Helgen and even the specters of her parents some nights. Those nights were the worst. Her eyes ached and her head felt like it was stuffed full of tundra cotton. When was the last time she had a good night's sleep?

She climbed out of her bed and stretched, grabbing the Guild armor off a nearby chair. As the dream faded, she began to feel a little better, and her determination returned. She had work to do, and a mission to complete. As she dressed, Ariana wondered what Esbern and Delphine were doing at Sky Haven Temple. Would they be disappointed if they knew what she had been doing for the last three months? She shook her head, dispelling the thought. There was no time to second guess herself.

Passing through the kitchen, she grabbed a sweetroll off the table and headed down to the Ragged Flagon. Delvin had mentioned the prospect of more jobs in Whiterun and she was eager to get out of the city. The restrictions Mercer had placed on her were making Riften an unpleasant, stifling place to be. She was used to coming and going as she pleased. Still, her month's probation was almost at its end and with any luck she'd be able to find out where the blasted Elder Scroll was.

A sharp pang ran through Ariana at the thought of the Scroll. She hated feeling this torn. After the kiss, all she wanted was to touch Brynjolf again, to feel that heat and safety. To get lost in his strength - but she couldn't. There was no place for her heart in this mess. Again, she cursed the Divines for their cruel manipulations. Why did she have to be the Dragonborn? She was no one; a sinner from Cyrodiil whose checkered past lay only barely concealed from the Thieves Guild she had never wanted to join. And Brynjolf… She was sure somewhere in the Heavens Mara was having a hearty laugh at her expense. _Goddess of compassion and charity my ass!_

Stepping into the Flagon, she spotted Delvin, seated at one of the tables talking to Brynjolf, and froze. _I can't do this._

She had managed to avoid him for the last couple of weeks, not missing the plaintive look in his eyes every time she accidentally caught his gaze. The encounters left her feeling muddled and heartsick. More than anything, she wanted to turn away from the entire situation and never look back. But what about the Elder Scroll? He was her only connection and her only lead. As much as the idea hurt and terrified her, she couldn't avoid him forever. _I have to do this._

Stiffly, she walked over the table, refusing to look at the red-haired Nord. _It's for the best. _She repeated the bitter words for the thousandth time, trying to commit to heart what her brain already knew. "Any jobs for me Delvin?"

The Breton looked up at her. "Sure, I've got a few. Bedlam job in Whiterun. You interested?"

She nodded, feeling Brynjolf's gaze on her. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Five hundred Septims worth. You get caught-"

"And we've never heard of you, yeah, yeah, I got it," Ariana rolled her eyes at the now familiar phrase. Delvin chuckled.

"Oh, and one more thing. Mercer wants you back within the day."

"Of course he does," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. I'll see you at nightfall." Turning away from the table, she spotted Vex leaning in her usual spot against the large pile of crates and made her way over. When all was said and done, she had her normal load of jobs, most of which were in Whiterun. And it was going to be especially difficult due to Mercer's demands. She was not overly fond of stealing in broad daylight. Clearly the Breton hated her.

As she turned to walk out of the Flagon, collided with a broad, leather-clad chest. Brynjolf. _Damn!_ Eyes trained on the floor, she muttered an apology, trying to slip around him and to reach the door. He nonchalantly placed his hand across her path, effectively blocking her escape.

"Come speak to me when you get back from Whiterun, lass. Mercer has a special job for you."

Ariana nodded mutely, cheeks burning. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, before finally pulling away and heading towards the Cistern. She ran across the room and burst out of the door, her stomach in knots. Ariana sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. Today was going to be a very long day.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

She had never felt so exhausted in her whole life. It was a miracle that she had managed to drag herself back to Riften at all. The Imperial yawned, jumping down from the back of the carriage. Somehow, she had managed to return just as the sun dipped below the snowy peaks of the mountains. Loot securely in her pack, she traced the familiar steps to the City below the City, stopping outside the door to the Flagon. Absently she ran her fingers over the shadowmark beside the door, taking the moment to steel herself for whatever Brynjolf may throw at her. Determined, she grasped the handle and and pushed the door inward. Whatever it was, she could handle it.

Half shrouded in darkness, arms crossed nonchalantly across his chest, he was leaning against the wall near the door. When he spotted her he straightened, lips pressing into a thin line as though he expected her to avoid him. Ariana closed her eyes, feeling foolish at the spark of pain that flashed through her. Of course it's what he expected, it's all she seemed to be doing as of late.

Brushing by him to conclude her business with Delvin and Vex, she was momentarily tempted to try running out through the Cistern instead of passing by him again. She quickly thought better of it; for all that she didn't want to be around Brynjolf, she wanted to see Mercer even less. Head held high, she marched up to him. "You mentioned a job?"

"Not here," he said, voice pitched low, gesturing for her to follow him out into the tunnels. She obeyed, apprehension growing the further they got from the Flagon. Finally, he stopped, turning to face her. And Ariana stared up at him, praying her face was as collected and expressionless as his.

"There's two jobs," he said, breaking the awkward silence between them. "One in Solitude, and one in… Markarth."

It felt like he had landed a punch to her stomach. Memories assaulted her from all sides, screaming through her head like the skittering of a hundred Frostbite spiders. She fought back a shudder of revulsion, trying to keep her composure in the face of her own personal plane of Oblivion. "I'm not doing it."

"You have to lass."

Ariana shook her head violently. "I don't care what you hold over my head, I am not going back to that city!"

Brynjolf stiffened at her words, if possible, standing even straighter than he already was. "It wasn't my call," he growled. "A contact in Markarth reached out to us and Mercer wasn't about to let a chance to get a foothold in that city slip away."

"Why..." Her voice cracked painfully and she swallowed hard, trying again. "Why me?"

Brynjolf looked away, a tiny muscle in his jaw clenching rhythmically. "He said that since you knew the city so well, you should be the one to go."

Brynjolf continued speaking, but Ariana didn't hear the words. She grabbed the wall, feeling dizzy. She couldn't breathe. Suddenly the tunnel was too small, and there wasn't enough air. Oh Gods, she was going to be sick.

"Lass," his hand was on her shoulder. "Lass, are you okay?"

She slid down the wall, covering her face with her hands, shaking her head as the rest of her trembled. Hot tears coursed down her face, each breath exploding from her body in jerking, shuddering gasps.

"Lass… Ariana!" His words permeated her panic, the same time as a hand cupped her cheek forcing her to meet eyes that were as fathomless and green as the oceans of Anvil. "You have to breathe. Come on, with me now. In, and out."

Clinging to his hand, she focused on his words. In… and out. Every tremulous breath was agony and suddenly Ariana could feel fingers around her throat, bruising her skin, blinding her with pain - she reached out for something solid and found Brynjolf. "I can't…"

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she sobbed. It was an eternity before Ariana managed to pull in a steady breath. Brynjolf held her in silence, his gentle touches quieting her wrenching sobs.

"I can't go back there," she whispered into the safety of his leather-clad shoulder. "I can't."

"You have to." When he finally spoke, his words were stern and she looked at him, betrayal knifing through her. "I don't have any choice in this either, lass. If it was up to me, you wouldn't be going anywhere near that damned city. But it's not up to me."

Too weary to rage against Mercer for his cruelty, Ariana settled for a detailed and colourful suggestion as to where the Guild Master could shove this job.

Brynjolf's eyes widened momentarily, then he let out a soft laugh. "I wasn't aware you knew those kinds of words, lass."

"Picked them up when I was younger," she said quietly, sharp panic finally fading into a dull misery at what she knew was to come, "and stupid enough to associate with more unsavory types."

"Oh?" the red-haired man asked curiously.

She gave him a half-hearted smile, "I haven't changed much, it seems."

"That's downright cold lass," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she leaned into him, drawing as much comfort from him as she could. She hadn't been aware how comforting a simple touch could be, and how much she missed it. She allowed herself to enjoy it for a full minute before gathering what little constitution she had left, pushing away from the Nord and standing up.

"I should probably get ready to go."

He shook his head, rising to his feet and brushing dirt from his knees. "We're not leaving till morning."

"We?" She stopped short.

"Aye, lass. I told you before, I'll not let you go back there alone. I'm coming with you."

Relief flooded through her, almost sending her back on the floor in a heap. Brynjolf was going to be there, grounding and steadfast. She wasn't going to be alone. "I…" her voice broke and for a moment, she was certain more tears were on the way. She drew in a steadying breath and looked up at him, knowing her gratitude was blatant on her face. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

They had set off at daybreak. The clouds above were untouched by the sunrise, remaining dismal and grey. It leant itself to the somber silence as they rode.

Brynjolf sent a sidelong glance at his companion. Ariana was slumped in her saddle, eyes half-closed, the dark circles beneath them contrasting sharply with the pallor of her skin and he had to wonder again if she had slept. Though she had claimed she had recovered, her explosion last night proved otherwise. Of course, it would be so much easier if she'd just let him help her.

He breathed in the crisp winter air, enjoying the rarity of being out of Riften and looked back out to the road again. He would admire Ariana's determination if it weren't so obviously masking something much deeper. Damned Imperials were almost as haughty as the Altmer.

She spoke of slaying two dragons as though it were a commonplace occurrence, only to dissolve into tears when forced to return to the place she had been held captive. She had proven herself adventurous, and noble - a thane, even. But she worked as hard as the lowest serf trying to make ends meet. He wondered bitterly if she'd ever trust him enough to tell him her story.

They were almost at Whiterun when a strange cry split the air. Brynjolf looked skywards; from the corner of his eye, he saw that Ariana had straightened in her saddle, tense and alert. The cry sounded again, closer this time.

"Brynjolf. We need to go." He looked at her, confused. "Now!" She spurred her horse into a gallop, rushing across the plain. The urgency in her voice was all the encouragement he needed, digging his heels into his own steed and following her.

He wanted to call to her, but his words were lost as the sound of giant wings filled his ears. Something landed heavily on the bridge directly in front of them, too large to be taken in all at once. Scales shimmering in the watery winter sunlight, wings folded behind its broad back; it might have been beautiful, if it hadn't been so terrifying. _Divines help us_.

Ariana's mount reared, screaming as it came face to face with the dragon, and the Imperial was thrown to the ground with a stomach clenching thump. As she rose to her feet, weapon drawn, the beast let out furious roar. The accompanying blast of ice obscured her from his sight.

"Ariana!"

As the dragon's roar faded into the chill winter air, Brynjolf stood, frozen and helpless, only hoping that he could defend the Imperial's lifeless body long enough to bring it home. His resignation melted into stunned stillness at the sight of Ariana, face grim as she pulled arrow after arrow out of her quiver. Screaming into the skies, the creature took flight again.

"Can we outrun it?" he gasped, finally jolted into action.

She shook her head, the gentle golden glow of the healing spell ebbing in the palm of her hand. "We'd only be leading it towards the farms."

He looked across the bridge to the farms surrounding the city of Whiterun. She was right. There were too many innocent people there, far too many to risk. He stumbled as she collided with him, her insistent hands dragging him down to crouch at the side of the bridge. Giant wings beating against the sky, the dragon reared back it's head again, mouth opening wide to unleash another icy blast that froze the stone solid around them.

"We're going to have to split up."

Brynjolf stared at her. "No."

"It's the only way we have a chance! I'll distract it long enough for you to sink your blades in."

"I don't like this lass."

She sent him a wry grin. "Yeah, me either."

He watched as she stood up and stepped out of cover, calm and collected as she drew her arrows and let them fly. The dragon took to the skies again, and he could hear her swear as the last arrow missed it's mark. The Nord frowned. How practiced was she at this?

Another thought came to him as he watched her scanning the sky as she tracked the beast. Why was her first reaction to slay the creature? She readied an arrow as it dipped down toward her, screeching. The attack was sudden and vicious, forcing Ariana to abandon her offense and tumble out of the line of fire and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was helpless and useless while the monster was in the air. Brynjolf clenched his fists around the hilts of his equally useless daggers, silently willing the Imperial woman to wait for her opening.

Grace and ferocity blended into one, the dragon landed in front of the Ariana, its back to the bridge. Brynjolf was behind the beast in an instant, leaping to sink his daggers into the beast's scaly hide. It roared in distress, spinning to strike the Nord with one of its clawed feet. The impact sent him flying into the side of the bridge, and agony flared across his back and ribs. Stars glimmered along the edge of his vision and he was dimly aware of Ariana screaming his name.

Attention drawn by her cries, the dragon swiveled it's massive head, jaws snapping. Backing away from the beast's vicious maw, Ariana was trapped against a rock face. Every move she tried to make earned her an enraged scream and a blast of foul breath.

The pain of his injuries forgotten, Brynjolf rushed at the creature, blades aimed at its soft underbelly. For all the days of his life, he was certain he would never forget the sound the creature made as the daggers hit their mark, drenching him in burning blood. He saw the spiked tail an instant too late and it collided with his chest, the impact sending him careening into the rocks. His head was ringing and the world was going fuzzy. He blearily looked up, eyes unable to focus as the dragon loomed over him.

There was a sound like a clap of thunder that echoed off the mountains and the dragon stumbled sideways. _What in Oblivion… _Unable to keep his head up any longer, Brynjolf slumped to the ground darkness rising up to meet him.


	9. City of Stone

A/N: Thanks to mia78 and JennyDAllred for your lovely reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Ariana staggered through the gates of Whiterun, Brynjolf's arm slung over her shoulders as she dragged the unresponsive thief towards her home. She kicked open the door to Breezehome, not caring for the strange looks the townsfolk were giving her. Her housecarl appeared immediately, weapon drawn.

"My thane?" Lydia lowered her mace slightly as she looked between the two of them, perplexed.

"Help me get him upstairs Lydia," Ariana groaned, soaked in sweat. Her injuries screamed under the strain of supporting the red-haired man. The Nordic woman nodded once, shutting the door and coming to slide one of Brynjolf's arms over her shoulders, bearing some of his weight, much to Ariana's relief. Between the two of them they managed to maneuver the unconscious man upstairs into Ariana's bed.

"My thane, what happened?'

Ariana didn't answer immediately, perched on the edge of the bed. There was blood matted in his hair and his face was drawn. Fortunately, he was no longer bleeding due to the healing spell she had cast on him earlier, but she wasn't sure that he wasn't injured elsewhere. Brynjolf's armor was going to have to be removed, there was no question. Staring at his prone form, she felt an unfamiliar twinge of concern. Finally she looked up at her housecarl. "A dragon attacked us on our way here."

Lydia brows drew together. "Why are you travelling with this criminal, my thane?" When Ariana didn't respond, Lydia spoke again. "My thane-"

The Imperial held up an angry hand. "What I do, or do not do, is none of your concern, Lydia," she snapped. "But if you must know, he can help me get the information I need."

The Nord turned on her heel, and left, slamming the door behind her. Ariana shook her head in aggravation. She was beginning to remember why she didn't spend a lot of time in Whiterun.

Turning back to the man on the bed, she steeled herself and began pulling on the straps and buckles that secured his armor. It wasn't until he hissed in pain as she undid a strap by his ribs that she was even aware he had woken up.

"Brynjolf!"

"If you wanted me to take my clothes off lass, you could have just asked," he tried to joke, but the effect was ruined by his current state.

With an affronted yelp, she jerked away from him. "You ass! Couldn't you have at least woken up while I was dragging you into the city?"

He chuckled, clutching at his side with a groan a moment later. "I feel like I was trampled by a dragon."

"That's because you very nearly were!" Her anger collapsed on itself at the memory and looked down at her hands. "I... thought you were going to die," she said softly.

Brynjolf placed a warm hand over hers, squeezing. "But I didn't."

His touched stopped the chaotic thoughts whirling through her mind, and left her speechless. She bit down on her bottom lip, trapped in his gaze. Alone in the room with him, she was suddenly very aware of how close they were. She could see the flecks of gold in his vibrant green eyes and smell the unique scent of leather, sweat and his skin. Cheeks suddenly burning she pulled away. "Right," she said, dragging her gaze from him. "I need you to take your cuirass off."

"Do you now?" He had the nerve to sound amused.

"I have to check for any injuries!" she defended, blush deepening.

Turning away as he complied, Ariana heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low groan. "All right, lass," he said at last. "Do what you need to do."

Keeping her eyes averted as best she could, she examined his bare chest, trying to ignore the the feel of hard muscle under her fingertips. His skin was fair and crisscrossed with silvery scars. There was a fine trail of red hair that ran down his chest to disappear within the band of his pants.

"See something you like?" He asked, eyes twinkling, corners of his mouth curving upward.

She pulled her hand away as if she had been burned and she turned to fix him with her best icy glare. When she met his gaze, she instead found herself transfixed by what she saw there. Her breath hitched and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She hesitantly placed her hand back on his chest, feeling the heat radiating off his skin as she ghosted her fingers over the peaks and valleys of scar and muscle. She wanted to lose herself in that heat. She wanted _him_.

Brynjolf raised a hand, eyes dark and hungry, reaching across the short space between them and brushing down her cheek. She leaned into the touch, suddenly unable to look into his eyes as she felt the rough skin of his hand on her. His hand moved back to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer, her mouth only scant centimeters away from his. He was going to kiss her, Ariana realized with a sweet throb, and she wanted him to.

A knock at the door shattered the perfect moment and they both sprang apart, eyes anywhere but on each other.

Ariana rose to her feet with a scowl, already knowing who was waiting on the other side. She jerked the door open. "I assume there's a reason for this interruption Lydia?"

The Nord woman's face closed off at the sight Brynjolf half clothed on the bed behind Ariana. "You have received a letter, my thane."

Giving her housecarl a look that could have melted stone, she held out an expectant hand "Well?"

Lydia dropped the letter onto her palm then turned stiffly and disappeared down the stairs.

Tapping the letter against her hand thoughtfully, she looked down at the elegant handwriting. Something about it seemed… familiar. Breaking the wax seal, she skimmed the message within, feeling her heart sank with each carefully inked word. Not long ago, a humble miner's plea had sent her deep into a place called Wolfskull Cave. Though the man had been brushed off by those in the Blue Palace, she couldn't in good conscience ignore what he had described. Taking her bow, she had trekked into the mountains, and what she found in the cave was something she wouldn't soon forget. The necromancers and their foolish plans, her revulsion at the sight of the undead, and absolute horror at their attempts to raise the long dead Wolf Queen. If what she read was true and Potema was on the loose, she needed to pay Falk a visit very soon.

"What is it lass?" Brynjolf was propped up on an elbow, his hand pressed against his side.

Ariana crumpled the letter, returning to the bed to gently press him back into the mattress. "Nothing to worry about. Let me see your side," she said, resuming her examination for injuries, fingers gently probing until he gasped in pain as she found the injured area.

"Not so hard," he grit out.

Pressing a palm against his ribs in response, she cast the familiar spell to heal him. As the golden light faded away, she stood up and stepped out of his reach. "I'm going to get some supplies to help with the pain. You should rest."

Without waiting for his answer, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. Safely out of his sight, Ariana sank down in the chair on the upstairs landing, burying her head in her hands, trying to stop their trembling.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf was eavesdropping. Not by choice, mind you, but by circumstance. Down below, he could hear female voices raised in anger. The Nord, Lydia, if he recalled correctly, was demanding to know why her thane was associating with known criminals; Ariana was telling Lydia to mind her own damned business.

He chuckled to himself, shifting in the bed with a wince. Seems he wasn't the only one who knew the Imperial was a pain in the ass.

"Of all people, you should understand Lydia!" Ariana's voice was now loud enough be heard clearly through the floor. "You know exactly what I've got to do, what my 'destiny' is!"

Lydia responded, her voice pitched too low for him to hear. Ariana's response, however, was loud enough to shake the rafters. Brynjolf almost felt bad for the unfortunate housecarl. Almost. Memories of what she had interrupted were at the forefront of his mind, leeching much of his empathy. Just the thought of Ariana so close to him, her hair tickling along his shoulder, was enough to make his battered body respond in kind.

"Talos save me from you Nords and your damned sense of honor!" Brynjolf bit back a smile. She probably said that with a straight face too. "I don't have a choice in the matter, damn you! It's not all killing dragons and heroics!"

Lydia's next response sounded reproachful. He could hear footfalls and imagined Ariana, pacing, eyes snapping with anger. "It was thieves or mages, Lydia, and at least you can always trust a thief to be untrustworthy. A mage'll burn you just for looking at him the wrong way."

Her low opinion of his Guild stung, especially considering she had been a member for several months now. But her comment about mages sparked his curiosity. It wasn't an uncommon opinion held of the magic-users in Skyrim, but she wasn't from his province. He wondered where it stemmed from.

"My thane," Lydia's voice was closer now, easier to hear, "there has to be a more lawful way to get to an Elder Scroll."

The footfalls stopped. "There isn't," Ariana replied. "I've looked."

"So you spend months stealing across Skyrim in the hope someone might find out where a Scroll is and tell you?"

Brynjolf was genuinely surprised. It was unthinkable that a housecarl would question her mistress in such a way. Clearly their relationship was more equal than he had first assumed.

"Stop." The Imperial's voice was a terse warning.

"My thane," Lydia pressed on, "is finding this Scroll really worth what you're doing to find it?"

"This is not up for debate!" Ariana exploded. "I need to find the Elder Scroll, and I need them in order to do it. End of discussion."

Moments later, she slammed through the door and stopped, eyes falling on him, colour draining from her face. "You're awake," she said weakly.

"So what's this destiny that requires you to find an Elder Scroll, lass?" he asked, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer.

Not that she would give him one.

Ignoring the question, she pulled a red bottle from one of the many pockets of her leather armor and tossed it at him. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain. I'm going to go kill something." She spun on her heel, marching out of the room again, leaving Brynjolf sitting in bewildered silence. Rolling the bottle in his hands, Brynjolf had to admit that probably wasn't his best move. He uncorked the bottle and drained the liquid inside, grimacing at its bitter taste. Sleep beckoned and he relaxed into it, knowing there was no way he'd be able to find her in his current state. Once he was well, however, it would be an entirely different story.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf woke at dawn, stretching. The potions had done well, the stabbing pain in his ribs now little more than the pull of stiff muscles. He gingerly sat up, smiling to himself at the lack of pain and caught sight of Ariana, slumped over a table in the corner of the room. She was sleeping soundly, her cheek resting against one of many open books that littered the small table.

The Nord swung his feet over the side of the bed, wincing as he made contact with the cool floorboards. Another stretch served to further ease the tightness in his freshly healed muscles. Meandering across the room, he reached out to gently shake the sleeping Imperial's shoulder.

"C'mon lass, that can't be comfortable."

She awoke with a jerk, eyes wide and unfocused before coming to land on him. Her gaze cleared, skimming over his shirtless chest and shoulders, a flush staining her cheeks. He allowed her perusal, raising a brow in amusement, and then reached for his cuirass.

"Good morning," he said conversationally, pleased when her blush deepened. "You've got ink on your cheek."

She reached a hand up to her face, pulling back fingertips smudged black. "Ugh."

Bending to tug his cuirass over his head, he paused, grimacing. He stunk like a skeever. "Do you have a bath here?"

"Yeah, on the floor below, round the stairs…" she paused, standing up. "Actually, it'd be easier if I showed you."

Brynjolf dutifully followed her down the stairs of the small house, through the kitchen area and into what looked like an alchemy lab. Over in the corner of the room, a wooden tub sat under a metal facet with a pump handle. "The water will probably only be lukewarm at best," she apologized. Then she yelped as he reached to unbuckle his pants. He chuckled as she fled the room, shutting the door hard behind her. The clean water felt like Sovngarde, soothing away the last of his aches and allowing him some much needed time to relax.

A little while later, the door opened with a creak and Brynjolf looked up in time to see his armor come sailing into the room. "Thanks," he called as the door shut quickly again. He laughed slightly, sliding lower into the tub. He was enjoying teasing her. It was a shame that he would have to get out of the cooling water and get dressed so soon.

As he pulled on his armor, he could hear Ariana in the adjoining kitchen, humming to herself, the rhythmic sound of a knife hitting the chopping block kept time with her tune. Stepping out of the bathing room, he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe and watching her as she worked. She had tied up her dark hair and was dressed in her Guild armor; it seemed like she was ready to resume their travels.

"What's for breakfast lass?" He asked, grinning at how she jumped at his voice.

"Venison stew," she replied, setting down her knife and turning around. "How… are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel like I've been chewed on by a dragon anymore, so that's a plus."

"Brynjolf," she admonished, the beginning of a smile curving her lips.

He held up a hand to pacify her. "I'm fine, good as new. You should watch your concern though, people might think you care about a common thief."

She gave him a long look, eyebrow raised, before turning back to resume chopping carrots. "Out. Go... do something with yourself," she said, the knife moving more quickly than before.

Chuckling, he left to wander through her house, pausing every so often to look over her belongings. There was a bookcase against the wall stuffed to the brim with books of all shapes, sizes and colours, with even more discarded off to its side and on its top. Hidden away between the bookcase and the dresser was a lute, one of the strings broken, and there might have been a flute poking out between the rolls of paper that were scattered atop various surfaces. Intrigued by symbols hastily drawn in charcoal on the paper, Brynjolf picked one up, seeing the familiar shapes of howling wolves, coiled snakes, butterflies in flight, to name a few. They looked more like a code than art to him. He dropped it back down, turning to run a finger down the vicious looking axe that hung on her weapons rack, glowing blue with enchantment.

"Careful with that," she called across the room. "It's the Axe of Whiterun."

He let out a low whistle, taking another look at the weapon. "And how'd you get that then?" Surely she hadn't stolen it.

Silence was his only reply. Looking over, at her, he could see that her eyes had clouded over, enfolding her in memory. "Lass?"

"I fought a dragon," she said at last, voice quiet.

"What happened?"

"I had only been in Skyrim for a couple hours. The most terrifying hours of my life," she paused briefly, her features smoothing out, becoming blank. "I came to Whiterun from Riverwood, to warn them of the first dragon attack. And when I got here, there was already another one. The Jarl sent me out with his guards to the Eastern Watchtower to fight the dragon before Whiterun was attacked too. When we got there… all I could smell was the stench of burnt flesh. Then I heard the dragon."

The way she spoke, it was like she was telling a story of something that happened to another person. Something flickered in his memory. _Another one? Where was the first?_

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that noise. It was the first dragon I fought. It screamed fire until its last breath," she continued, shuddering.

The only sound in the small house was the crackle of the cooking fire. Brynjolf frowned, turning back to the weapons on the wall. There was more to the story than she was telling. He could feel it. But the empty, distant expression on her face was disquieting and Brynjolf found himself wishing he could take that look away from her forever.

"I see you kept your old bow," he hazarded.

She shook herself, life flooding back into her face, smile curving her lips. "It's called Zephyr. It belonged to a friend."

"Oh?" he asked, fingers tracing along the intricate designs of the weapon.

"Katria," she breathed, and Brynjolf felt a sudden inexplicable stab of jealousy at the way she spoke the name.

Crossing the room, she picked up an unremarkable coral coloured tome that sat atop the bookcase, half obscured by pieces of paper and other books. "I picked up this book and it pointed me towards some uncharted ruins. Turned out to be quite a mystery."

As she turned the tome, he could see the title etched in gold on its spine. _The Aetherium Wars_.

"Seems like dry reading."

Flipping pages, Ariana shrugged. "It proved profitable. The Dwemer artifacts I picked up alone helped to pay for this place."

"And Katria?"

A small, sad smile crossed Ariana's lips. "She's at rest now. I helped her prove all her theories were right." Brynjolf immediately felt foolish for his earlier jealousy.

The Imperial returned the book to its proper place and stepped back into the kitchen, moving the ingredients into a pot over the fire. "The food will be ready soon. I was thinking we should take a carriage to…" her voice broke, words trailing off.

"We'll take a carriage then," he reassured her, and the warm look of gratitude he received in return awakened the same warm stirrings of affection that he brought him to Whiterun to begin with. _What have you done to me, lass?_ he thought, bending to gather the supplies they would need for the coming journey.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf leaned back against the side of the carriage, enjoying the feeling of sunlight playing across his face. Ariana was stretched out on the opposite bench, legs crossed at her ankles as she stared up into the blue sky. The storm had passed as they travelled west, but the cold winter wind had stayed.

They hadn't spoken since they had left Whiterun. And while Ariana's face was calm, her eyes were troubled.

Brynjolf cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "What brought you to Skyrim lass?"

She didn't move or look his way. "A series of poor decisions."

Hearing the tension in her voice, he leaned forward, rocking with the movement of the carriage. "You can't tell me you think the entire province is awful."

"It has… its pleasant qualities," she agreed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

He wanted to bring her out of her troubled thoughts. "Where do you hail from Ariana?" he asked, hoping the notion of her hometown would distract her from their destination.

"Anvil, in Cyrodiil," she replied slowly. "Have you ever been there?"

He shook his head. "I've never left Skyrim."

"It's beautiful," she said, giving him the first smile he'd seen since they had departed that morning. "It's an oceanside city, with wide streets and stone buildings. We had a house on the hill that looked over the bay. On a clear day you could see the Chapel to Diabella from there, it was amazing. Out on the point was the old light house, opposite the sprawling castle. At night, I remember the lamp posts would bring out the torchbugs."

"It sounds beautiful," he agreed. "Why did you leave?"

"There's nothing left for me there," she replied, stiffening.

Brynjolf frowned. "No family, no brothers or sisters?"

"Ma and Da are dead. As for my brother…" she took a deep breath, "well, he's going to be in jail for the rest of his life."

"What did he do?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, curiosity making him foolish.

She turned her head to look him squarely in the eye. "He got caught."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The city disgusted her. It was crowded and dark, cloaking the lower levels in near perpetual shadow. It should have been perfect for a thief, but it left her fearful, continually looking over her shoulder. Every guard sent a bolt of anxiety through her, as though they would be the one to remember her face from the prison break, or recall her part in the resulting massacre. She moved a little closer to Brynjolf's side. If he noticed, he didn't say anything, and she was grateful for his silent support.

Buildings soared above them on tiered walkways, hewn out of the very mountains themselves. She remembered her first visit to Markarth, how she had been struck by the beauty of the Dwemer architecture. Now, she found herself hoping the entire city would be crushed to rubble beneath a rockslide. A pair of guards walked by and she dropped her head, sinking a little further into the shadows. They paid the Imperial no mind, and she overheard a fragment of their conversation as they passed by.

"Did you hear the Jarl's putting out a bounty on the Forsworn at Druadach Redoubt?" asked one.

"I'd love to give those barbarians a taste of my steel," came the other's growling reply as they disappeared into the crowded marketplace.

A dirty beggar shoved his way between Ariana and Brynjolf, making the Imperial stumble. The man rounded on her and she watched helplessly as the Nord was swallowed by the crowd. "I said 'alms' you backbiter!" the man shouted, red-rimmed eyes glaring out of a face that was coated in layers of grime. "Give a crippled worker a helping hand!"

The Imperial took a step back from the reeking man, looking around in desperation for an escape. A warm hand wrapped around hers, pulling her through the throng of people. She looked up to see Brynjolf's reassuring smile and sagged in relief. "Thanks," she said, and he nodded, pressing a hand against her shoulder to guide her as they headed towards the inn.

Inside, she breathed a sigh at the welcome reprieve. Being back in Markarth was overwhelming, every putrid memory bubbling just below the surface, threatening to overtake her. From the stones below her feet to the river that wound past every building and out below the walls, every part of this wretched city was steeped in horrors. She watched Brynjolf speak with the innkeeper, gathering her composure around herself like a tattered cloak.

"I've got us a room for the night." Brynjolf said, returning to her side. "Two beds." Handing her the key, he gestured towards of the rooms at the end of the hall. "Get settled in, I'm going to try to find our contact."

She nodded once, grabbing the key and slipping inside the safety of the room. The solitude was a sanctuary, and she sighed, feeling some of the tension she carried into the city drop off her shoulders. She rubbed her eyes, sitting down on the edge of one of the stone beds. What the guards said in the market kept coming back to her. _Druadach Redoubt._ Where had she heard that name before?

The memory struck without warning, flooding her with with sickening dread. The cave mouth that would take her out to Markarth, the group of Forsworn gathering weapons, their King crowing their victory.

Madanach had turned to her, while one of his followers handed her armor that would mark her as one of them. "Come find me at Druadach Redoubt after this is all done," he had said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, making her shudder. She had only just murdered that thief, Grisvar the Unlucky, she had later learned, and in the wake of that mindless rage, she had been numbed to the core.

Her stomach lurched in retaliation to the memory and she fell to her knees, retching, fingers curling bloodless and white around the chamber pot. She leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking as gasping sobs tore through her. Slowly her panic ebbed away, leaving her weak and tired. Rising to her feet she looked in the mirror, not recognizing the pale and haunted reflection looking back at her. Staring into her own face, she felt her exhaustion solidify into grim determination. No matter how long it took, she promised herself in the mirror, no matter _what_ it took, she would take back what was stolen from her.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

When Brynjolf returned to the inn, he knew something was wrong at once. He had never seen Ariana this cold, her face an expressionless mask and her movements stiff.

"I found our contact," he said, trying to keep the concern out of his voice as he tested the waters.

She made a noncommittal noise, woodenly running the whetstone along the length of her ebony dagger.

Brynjolf frowned; what had happened in the span of half an hour? "Endon," he continued. "Said he'd meet us here tonight and go over the details."

"Good," she replied, slinging her quiver across her back and heading toward the door.

Frowning, he blocked her path. "Lass, where are you going?"

"I have matters to attend to," she said. Her eyes were hard, jaw set defiantly and Brynjolf realized with a jolt that he barely recognized the woman standing in front of him.

"Ariana-"

"Get out of my way Brynjolf." By the Eight, her voice didn't even sound right.

He shook his head. "I'm not about to let you wander this place alone. Not with what's happened here."

"If you don't move, I **will** move you."

Her voice sounded like the draw of a blade and he didn't doubt for a second that he was going to end up regretting his stubbornness in one way or another. Yet, he wouldn't allow her to be vulnerable in this hellhole. She had been through more than enough of that. "Not until you tell me where you're going at least lass."

When she opened her mouth again, he was slammed back against the door, the force snapping his head back and making his knees buckle. He crumpled to the floor, ears ringing as the sound reverberated through the small room. Dimly he was aware of Ariana as she stepped over his body and out the door without a second glance.

Groaning, he struggled to his knees. The room was spinning and he felt like he had just been hit in the head with a blacksmith's hammer. How in all Oblivion could she Shout? The Nord rose to his feet, grabbing the wall to steady himself as the world tilted on it's axis.

Whatever she was doing, he was going to find out - whether she liked it or not.

Brynjolf just managed to catch sight of her as he burst through the inn's doors and onto the street. She was stalking away from him, keeping to the outside of the crowds, forcing people out of her way as she moved further into the city. Mouth set in a line, he followed her from a distance as she climbed up towards the mountain.

She never faltered in her path and never paused to look around. It looked like Mercer had been right about her knowledge of the city. The thought was bitter and Brynjolf scowled, hurrying to keep up. His head **_hurt_**, and he wanted a strong drink.

He watched as she passed through two giant doors, paying no mind to the guards stationed on either side. Climbing the final steps to the doors, he spat blood on the even surface of the cobblestones, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and ignoring the throbbing in his temples as he followed her.

The interior was heavily guarded, but looked like a ruin with collapsed columns and piles of rubble in the entrance hall. Ariana didn't pause. She went straight to the carven stairway at the end of the corridor, taking the stone steps two at a time until she finally stopped in front of a throne. Brynjolf paused at the edge of the room, hoping not to catch her attention before padding in on silent feet. Why had she gone to see the Jarl?

The thief strained his ears as he tried to catch the conversation that echoed out of the throne room. The Jarl's voice was deep and low, his words lost in the background noise of the throne room. Brynjolf thought he heard what may have been an apology, but it didn't sound heartfelt by any stretch. Ariana spoke next, her voice louder and easier to hear in it's impatience.

"I heard you had a problem with Forsworn at Druadach Redoubt."

Brynjolf crept closer until both sides of the conversation were clear. He heard the Jarl confirm what Ariana had said and her snappish reply. "I'll take care of them for you."

Without waiting for the Jarl to speak again, she swept out of the room, almost running into a patrol of Thalmor. Hidden in the shadows, Brynjolf could see the expression on Ariana's face and frowned. It was the kind of blind fury that often led even the smartest of people to do very stupid things. She paused for the haughty Altmer to pass, and he noted the way she clenched her fists at her side. He followed her down the stairs, careful to stay out of sight. He pulled himself from the gloom, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder, feeling her jerk under his touch, startled.

"We need to talk lass," he said evenly, voice dark.

Her stare went right through him, but she nodded curtly. "Outside."

The muted sunlight blinded them as they stepped back out onto the streets of Markarth. Brynjolf pulled Ariana off to the side, taking a moment to look her over. She stood with her arms crossed, staring out over the city, looking every inch a hardened warrior. He had only left her alone for a half hour.

"I have to go," she bit out.

"Lass, talk to me!" he growled, patience quickly wearing thin. The dull throb at the back of his skull was making it hard for him to think clearly and he just wanted to lie down and sleep. "Where are you going?"

For a moment her expression softened and Brynjolf felt a treacherous glimmer of hope. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, her face hardened again. "I'm going to extract my payment in flesh and bone."

With those disturbing words, she left Brynjolf standing at the door, watching her until she rounded the corner and out of sight. Exhaustion crashed over him like a wave and he closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do for her now but wait.


	10. The Folly of Pride

A/N: Thank you to WeAreThePrey and Manu for your lovely reviews! Hope you guys like this new chapter!

Ariana's breathing sounded harsh in her ears. The cave was dim and quiet, lit by sputtering torches, but up ahead she could hear the faint murmur of voices. She nocked another arrow against her bow, skirting the shadows as she moved deeper into the earth.

The Forsworn guards outside had put up feeble resistance at best, unprepared for her vicious assault. She didn't recognize the men she had killed, though one of the fallen looked as if he had only just become a man. She pushed his face from her mind as she pressed forward.

Ahead the tunnel widened into a well lit cavern and Ariana stifled a curse. She pressed herself against the wall, trying to get a good view of the room without alerting them to her presence. The Imperial couldn't tell for sure how many Reachmen were inside, but it was more than the handful that escaped the mines.

On the far side of the cave she spotted someone she recognized and she felt the slow burn of fury in her gut. She pulled back on her bow, aiming down the sights as she waited for the man to pause in his rounds.

He had been the one who had beaten her until she could not stand on her first night in the mine. She had woken from her uneasy sleep to find him standing over her, hands balled into fists…

Ariana took a long, slow breath in... and released.

He fell to the ground without a sound and she smiled in grim satisfaction. Soon, a group of Forsworn had gathered around the fallen man and Ariana nocked another arrow, silently letting it fly. The second man to fall had had been the one who had forced her up against a wall, shiv to her throat when she had made the mistake of walking into what was 'his' territory.

The crowd turned to face the direction from which the arrow had flown as she felled a third offender.

With a collective roar, they ran towards her hiding spot against the far wall of the cave, but she was ready for them. The first Reachman who had the bad luck to get within her reach howled as she buried her dagger to its hilt in the junction between his shoulder and his neck. His cry was cut short by a gurgling flood of gore. There was a moment of stillness as the man's death rattle echoed off of every stone and pebble in the cave; then chaos erupted.

Ariana dodged a flurry of attacks as the crowd pressed her backward into the confining neck of the tunnel. Lips curling into a cruel smile, she waited for her moment, then reared back.

"**FUS RO DAH!**" The unrelenting force of her Shout sent them tumbling into the cavern. After a stunned moment, the group began to move, shakily regaining their footing in the wake of the Dragonborn's cry. All, save for the one who had been impaled on a wooden spike. She watched without emotion as he weakly grasped at the sharpened tip that jutted out of his chest, slowly sinking down the thick pole to the sandy floor.

Ariana grabbed an arrow from her quiver, feeling a fleeting pang of regret as it embedded into the neck of the man who had watched his daughter's beheading before being sent into the mine. Though he had not hurt her, he had not helped her, and that was enough to earn his death.

She heard the familiar twang of a bowstring and hissed as an arrow lodged itself in her side. She hadn't seen the archers; there were more of these bastards than she had originally thought. Ducking behind a tall rock face, she nocked another arrow of her own, wincing at the white burn that spread across her side.

She let the arrow fly an instant too late, missing the charging Reachman and barely having time to shield her face as his swords connected with jarring force, shattering the bow in her hands and narrowly missing her head. The ruined weapon fell to the ground in pieces and she narrowed her eyes. "You son of a bitch!"

Fury made her fast, flitting around his swords and gutting the man before kicking him to the ground with a snarl. Wiping blood and slime out of her eyes, she spied her next target, leaving the clumsy longswords with their dead owner, preferring the sleek efficiency of her long dagger.

The fur-clad man was ready bringing his axe to bear with a roar. Returning his battle-cry, she side-stepped his slash, sliding her blade through fur armor and muscle, into his heart. Another arrow sang out overhead as he crumpled and Ariana tumbled out of its path. Where in Oblivion was the damn archer?

A third arrow slammed into her arm, ripping through sleeve and muscle. She plunged behind a short outcropping, taking advantage of it's meager protection, and yanked the arrow free of her flesh, feeling the warm rush of blood beneath her armor. There was no time to assess the damage done, she could already hear the cries of the Reachmen as they neared.

Crouching behind a stack of crates near the ramp up to the next tier of the cave, she waited for her opportunity. It was only a matter of time before they found her.

There was the crunch of a booted foot next to her, and she held her breath, readying her dagger. Pulling back to strike she was taken aback when he turned around, giving her a view of another familiar face, this one straight from her worst nightmares. His arrow missed its mark, striking her in her stomach instead of her heart. With a cry bourne as much from horror as it was from rage she lurched forward, dagger slicing cleanly through the fragile flesh of his throat, coating her with a spray of bright red blood.

"Well, if it isn't my dear friend from Cidhna Mine."

The voice made her blood turn to ice water, and Ariana turned, chest heaving, blade at the ready.

_Madanach_.

The King of Rags was flanked by two Forsworn and his giant orc, Borkul the Beast. With an inarticulate cry of fury, she lunged toward them, but was brought up short by a wicked sword aimed at her neck.

The men closed around her, wrenching her arms behind her back, effectively quelling her struggles.

Madanach stepped forward, eyeing her warily, blade still at the ready. "So ungrateful," he admonished. "And to think I led you from the mines myself."

Ariana pulled uselessly against the arms that restrained her. "I'll kill you," she promised.

"No," Madanach said, his tone infuriatingly calm. "You will either help me regain my lands, or your will die."

Ceasing her struggles, Ariana saw the King of Rags' mouth turned up in a smug smile. She sucked in a deep breath. He thought he had won, that he had broken her.

He was wrong.

"**YOL TOOR**!" She Shouted, and the world burst into flame. Agonized cries accompanied the nauseating smell of charred flesh and the arms that held Ariana disappeared. Dropping to her knees, she pulled out her knife, quickly slashing at the neck of the man who had held her. She ripped the bow from his stiffening hands. It was only a hunting bow, but it would serve her purposes well enough.

Borkul was the first to recover from the blast, and the Imperial knew he was going to be her toughest foe. Behind him, the Forsworn were still frantically patting the flames off of their bodies, and Madanach was nowhere to be seen.

Moving rhythmically, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver sending it to embed itself deeply into the head of one of the Reachmen. Loosing a second shot, she didn't have time to see if it hit it's mark before the orc was upon her, giant club swinging. The blow glanced of her shoulder, sending her spinning, not giving her time to recover. The next strike was directly to her stomach, shattering the arrow's shaft and driving the tip deeper into her body. The air in her lungs exploded out of her and she collapsed to the floor, bow sliding out of her reach as she fell. Scrambling away from the Orsimer, she lurched to her feet, arm crossed protectively across her wounded stomach.

She was too slow, and hurt too badly. Borkul caught up with her easily, swinging the club into her back and sending her flying forward into the stone wall. Her head collided with the unforgiving stone of the cave and darkness wavered along the edges of her vision. Disoriented, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, coming face to face with the end of the orc's brutish club.

"Any last words Imperial?" he taunted, voice guttural and harsh.

Drawing in a deep breath, Ariana squared her shoulders. As a matter of fact, she did.

"**FUS RO DAH!**" The Orsimer staggered back, and she pulled out her dagger, pushing herself forward to jam it into his leg, severing muscle and tendon. He roared in pain and outrage, legs now useless, and she rolled out of the way as the force of his fall shook the walls of the cavern.

"Bitch!" The orc was on her in seconds, crushing her beneath his stinking weight and his thick hands closed around her neck, squeezing.

Ariana kicked feebly, trying to buck him off, and stretched out fingers, grappling for her dagger that she had dropped. Her fingers brushed across the hilt, scooting it maddeningly out of reach. Stars exploded in front of her eyes, and she could feel her struggles weakening. Abandoning her search for the blade, she brought both hands up, striking his ears with a devastating blow.

The orc howled, reeling from the impact. His grip on her throat loosed enough to allow her to suck in a desperately needed breath and shift beneath him, finally able to grab her dagger. Knife now in hand, she plunged it into the orc's side, over and over, coating herself in more foul-smelling blood with every strike.

Borkul roared in agony, reaching out to halt the attack. Ariana bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him, but he was too heavy. Despite his injuries, the orc was inhumanly strong, hand finally closing around her wrist and pulling the dagger towards her throat, murderous glint in his eye.

Ariana felt panic threatening to overtake her, but refused to relinquish her blade. The Orsimer enjoyed her terror, laughing as she struggled to push the blade away from her throat. Leaning closer, their faces almost touching, he applied pressure and she felt delicate skin split beneath the expertly honed blade.

Taking advantage of his nearness, she reared back, slamming her head into the bridge of his nose and pushing against him with all her strength. Finally his weight shifted and she fell onto him, driving the dagger across his throat and deep through his neck. She watched triumphantly as the light faded from his eyes.

Rolling off of the reeking corpse, Ariana stared up at the roof of the cave, willing her breath to return to normal. Her body was a monument to agony and she wasn't sure her legs would support her. Yet, despite her pain and exhaustion, the vengeful fury still burned bright at her core. She wasn't done yet.

Turning onto her side with a low groan, she made it to her knees, and after an endless moment, her feet. Hand braced against the cool stone of the cave, she surveyed the destruction before her. The cavern smelled of blood and dirt, and there was gore splashed across the grey stones with bodies strewn throughout. There was no sign of Madanach amongst the sprawling corpses.

Rage was beginning to give way to exhaustion, but Ariana willed herself to limp to the ledge where she had encountered him first, arm gingerly holding her stomach. Every movement, every breath, burned like a branding iron. To her left, a torch-lined passage glowed brightly against the dark of the cave. Slowly, painfully, she climbed up the passageway. At the top she discovered the King of Rags, back to her, writing at a desk much like how she had first met him.

"Ah, Borkul. Have you disposed of her body?"

"Madanach," the word cut like broken glass along her ravaged throat. "Face me."

Spinning in his seat, the old man's eyes widened in panic for a scant second before he raised his sword, charging at her with an enraged cry. Reaching to her side, Ariana realized with a jolt that she had left her dagger in the orc's throat down below. Grabbing a large stone from the floor of the cavern, she unleashed a Shout that sent the man tumbling back into the desk he had been writing at, his sword arcing across the room.

She was on top of him in an instant, the stone rising and falling over and over. Ariana thought she may have heard him scream, may have felt him raising his arms to try to push her away, but her only focus was the squelching, muted, sound of stone meeting flesh and bone.

She didn't notice when he stopped struggling, or the chunks of bone and brain spattering her face. Only when she looked down at the pulpy hole that was once the King of Rags' face did she stop, her makeshift weapon falling from numbed fingers.

Horrified at what she had done, she scrambled away from the dead King, not stopping until she was pressed up against a wall. Breath coming fast and hard, each gasp exploded through her in a bust of agony, and her head lolled back against the stones. The expansive cavern suddenly seemed tight and airless, full of dead things that skittered and waited for her to join their ranks.

Spurred by panic alone, Ariana lurched to her feet, forcing her unwilling body out of the stifling darkness and back to sunlight and the fresh Skyrim air. Limping past the pile of bodies she had created, dagger forgotten in her desperate need to escape, she burst out of the mouth of the cave and into the blinding sun.

The journey was painstakingly slow, Markarth seeming worlds away from the hell in which she stood. But Ariana kept moving, holding an image of red hair and eyes the colour of Anvil's ocean in her mind.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf hated waiting.

The anxious feeling grew heavier in his chest with each tankard of ale he drank, melding with the the lingering anger that simmered below the surface his calm exterior. Try as he might, he couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened a few scant hours ago. The Ariana he had known had been gone in an instant, replaced with a creature colder than an Ice Wraith. Despite his best attempts to quash it, one question resurfaced in his mind again and again.

_Why?_

The sound of metal scraping across stone and the tendrils of winter air coiling around his legs marked the entrance of another patron. Brynjolf heard murmurs of shock as he turned from the bar to see who had entered. The sight turned his blood cold, and his heart was suddenly pounding in his throat.

Ariana slumped in the doorway, coated from head to toe in blood and viscera, tear tracks making paths in the gore on her face.

He was at her side before he had made the decision to move, hand hovering over her shoulder. "Ariana," he breathed, then gasped, barely able to get his arms around her as she pitched forward to her knees.

"Brynjolf." Her voice was hoarse, and when her eyes met his, he nearly recoiled from the pain he saw there. "Help."

Grunting, he pulled her arm over his shoulder, hoisting her into his arms and navigating his way through the onlookers to their room.

Shutting the door firmly with his foot, he lowered her carefully onto her bed, not missing the soft whimper as he did. "What happened to you?" he said softly, not sure he wanted the answer.

Ariana took in a shallow breath, wincing. "I need… I was shot. The arrows…" She plucked weakly at her stomach and he grimaced, seeing the shattered wooden shaft of an arrow peeking through her armor. "I can't heal until they're out."

"All right, lass," he soothed, hands moving to the buckles and straps of the armor. He gently pressed her shaking hands into her lap when she tried to fumble one of the buckles loose. "Just take it easy, I'll help you," he said.

Undoing the final few straps of her armor and easing her cuirass over her head, Brynjolf sucked in a sympathetic breath at the sight before him. The Imperial's body was a mess of darkening bruises, pale skin barely visible through the mottle. An ugly gash decorated her upper arm and he could see where arrows were embedded in her body, one bloody wound in her side, the other marring her abdomen.

Muttering an oath that was certain to bring down the wrath of the Eight, he filled a pot with water, and placed it over the fire. Grabbing one of the bedsheets he tore the fabric into chunks and pulled his knife from it's hiding place in his boot.

It was going to be a long night.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as the water heated. The silence of the room was overwhelming, the air heavy with unasked questions. Finally, adjusting the pot of water over the flames, he broke the stillness.

"Where did you go?"

She stirred at the sound of his voice. "Druadach Redoubt. It is - was - a Forsworn camp to the north of the city."

It took monumental effort to keep his voice even as she confirmed what he had heard earlier. Forsworn camps were notoriously dangerous. "Why?"

"Madanach."

The name ignited his frustration into red-hot anger. "What would possess you?" he snapped, spinning to face her. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?!"

She paused a moment too long and the look on her face doused his fury, the realization staggering him. "Lass…"

"I had to go," she insisted, voice determined although weak. "How am I supposed to live up to my destiny if I can't even deal with a few bandits?"

He poured the hot water into a wooden bowl, noticing the painful-looking bruises that spread across her back as he neared the bed. "You didn't have to do it alone."

"Brynjolf-"

"We'll talk about it later," he stopped her words with a gesture. Placing the bowl beside her, he handed her a chunk of torn sheet. "You're going to want to bite down on this."

Swallowing hard, she took the fabric from his hand and rolled it up. Watching as she placed the roll between her teeth, the Nord turned his attention to her wounds, starting with the arrow lodged in her left side. He examined the projectile, fingers pressing gently against her skin. "Are you ready, lass?" Brynjolf asked, eyes searching her anxious face. She gave weak nod and he brought the blade to meet her side. In a single, swift movement, he edged the blade into the wound and yanked on the shaft, freeing the arrow from her body.

Brynjolf dropped the projectile on the dresser nearby, gently wiping away the blood from the wound while he gave the Imperial a moment to rest before he moved on to the next arrow. As her frantic breathing turned into more measured whimpers, he turned his attention to the fragments of wood that stuck out of her stomach. The arrowhead was impossible to see, only the shaft that protruded above her navel was visible. He winced at the injury. Any wrong move and she would bleed to death right here on this bed.

He gave the broken wood a gentle tug, and Ariana pulled away from him, shaking her head with a muffled groan. Brynjolf picked up his knife again, giving her a sympathetic look. "This is going to hurt, lass," he said, "fighting me is just going to make the entire process more difficult."

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she clenched her fists into the furs that covered the bed and gave him a curt nod.

Steeling himself for what needed to be done, he dug the blade into her, probing the muscle while trying to work the knife under the barbed arrowhead. Ariana twisted under him, her screams barely stifled by the rag in her mouth, echoing off the tall stone roof above.

Blood was everywhere, slick on the handle of his dagger and obscuring his view of the wound. Sweat began to bead on his brow and Brynjolf swore, driving the blade a little deeper. Her breathing sped up and her eyes rolled, unfocused and agonized.

"I know, lass," Brynjolf said, slipping a finger into the bloody hole and trying to gain purchase on the shattered nub of the shaft. "I know."

Ariana jerked away from his invasion and he bit back another curse as the arrowhead slipped out of his grasp. There was too much blood. Wiping his hand on his pants, he used the dagger to further open the wound, desperately trying to ignore the agonized noises she was making. "It'll all be over soon, lass."

He couldn't understand her response, her words muffled by the makeshift gag, but the tears streaming down her face told him all he needed to know. He needed to finish this and fast.

He wasn't going to make any progress with her moving about however. Ruthlessly, he pressed down against her hips, holding her in place as he dug back into the wound. Though she jerked and bucked, he held firm, fingers finally reaching the arrow. He slowly tugged it out, careful not to cause even more damage in its extraction.

She fell back on the bed, spitting the cloth out of her mouth and crying in pain. Brynjolf watched as she took in a few calming breaths, fists unclenching from the furs. The light of her healing spell encircled her, split skin slowly mending in front of his eyes. She cast it again, and once more, until all that marked her ordeal were pale pink scars and the blood that coated her skin.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, looking around the room. "Blue bottle, in my pack."

Wordlessly, he walked over to the bag, crouching to open it. After a moment of searching, he pulled out a small blue bottle and handed it to her. She unstoppered it, quickly draining the liquid with an expression of distaste and a shudder. Raising her hand, she cast the healing spell one last time, sighing with relief as she slumped back onto the bed.

"Endon should be here by now," Brynjolf said, wetting a cloth and daubing at the blood that had crusted on her forehead. She made a thoughtful sound, reaching up to take the rag from his hand.

"I should probably clean up before coming out to see him. Or else he might think we're part of the Dark Brotherhood."

Brynjolf looked at her sharply, surprised by her attempt at humor. Maybe that gash on her head was worse than he had originally thought. "Take however long you need," he said with a frown.

Giving him the ghost of a smile, she disappeared into the adjoining room, shutting the door behind her. He stood there a moment longer, listening to the muted sound of water and her voice humming an eerie tune. Shaking away his misgivings, the Nord turned and walked out of the room, heading to the main room of the inn to meet with their contact.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The afternoon sun beat down upon the road to Falkreath, warming Brynjolf despite the frosty air. He was used to the brutal Skyrim winters, but he could tell that Ariana was not. He looked to his right, where his companion trudged along the path, huddled tightly in a heavy travelling cloak. "You doing alright over there, lass?"

The muffled reply he got sounded suspiciously like "should have gone to Elsweyr" and he laughed. "It's not that cold."

"You can't be serious!" she protested hotly. "You grew up in Skyrim! Do you know any season other than winter?"

He snorted. "We're not that much further north than Cyrodiil. You should see Windhelm, or Winterhold. Snow stays on the ground nearly year round."

"Even more reason to stay away," she muttered, pulling the cloak closer against her body.

"It's just a bit of snow, lass."

She made a rude noise. "One of them has Ulfric Stormcloak, and the other is full of mages. No thank you."

"Not a fan of the Stormcloaks?" Brynjolf had been watching the civil war unfold from a distance, refusing to so much as voice an opinion on the subject. In his line of work, it wasn't particularly profitable to pick a side.

Ariana shrugged. "I'm not interested in getting wrapped up in a war is all. I have other things to attend to."

"Like that destiny you mentioned?" he queried and saw her stiffen from the corner of his eye.

"What do you think is going to be at Pinewatch?" she changed topics with a forced lightness.

He gave her a measured look, and received a glare in return. "Endon didn't say, aside from bandits," he finally said, ending their standoff.

Ariana kicked a chunk of ice with her boot, sending it skittering off the road as they resumed walking. "I can't believe we're going half-way across Skyrim to get a silver mold."

"If we can get a foothold in Markarth-"

"Yeah, I get it," she said in exasperation. "The Guild needs this, the Guild needs that, Mercer is furious, what else is new?"

Brynjolf frowned at her flippant reply but couldn't say he was surprised by her attitude. She had made it abundantly clear that she was not happy with their business arrangement every step of the way. It was a shame, because she was an excellent thief.

They walked along in silence, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the whistle of the wind. Beside him, he heard Ariana begin to hum, the same haunting tune she had sung in Markarth. He listened for a moment before he spoke. "What's that song?"

"It's an old lullaby. My Ma used to sing it to me, said her mother had sung it to her, and her mother…" she trailed off with a shrug.

"What happened to your parents, lass?"

She looked away, holding out a hand to knock the snow off a branch that hung low over the road. "Thalmor. My parents worshipped Talos."

Brynjolf winced, sympathetically. He had heard stories of the Altmer arresting Nords for worshipping the human god, and he had seen the condition Etienne had been in when he returned from Solitude. "I'm sorry-"

"It's in the past," she said with a slight shake of her head. "Let's focus on the present."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Daylight was fading as they stepped out of the bandit's hideout. Ariana shivered as the cold wind sliced through her, slinging her new bow across her back and pulling her cloak close around her. The bandits hadn't been prepared for an attack, and she and Brynjolf had easily taken down the men. The silver mold was now stowed safely away in his pack.

She sent a quick glance to the Nord at her side.

His questions had brought up a myriad of memories, and to her surprise, they hadn't been the blood soaked terrors that had been haunting her for so long. She recalled her father's rare, wide smile and the way her mother had hummed softly while mixing potions. How long had it been since she had thought of them without seeing their deaths? How long had it been since their memory hadn't brought her guilt?

Smiling to herself, she reached out to catch a snowflake as it fluttered down from the heavens and remembered how peaceful Brynjolf had looked this morning, taking in the icy tundra before him. The thought sent a little jolt through her and the corners of her mouth turned up on their own accord.

It was strange, she mused, how she could trust him to have her back in a fight, and then look to him to lift her dark spirits. For all that she didn't want to get him involved, she was glad he was there.

"It's getting late," he remarked, low voice pulling her out of her thoughts. "Do you want to stop for the night in Falkreath?"

Ariana shook her head, gooseflesh prickling across her arms at the thought of the place. The townsfolk were a little too focused on death for her liking. "No, we should keep going. I'd rather not waste any more time."

"Lead the way," he replied with a good natured shrug.

Adjusting her pack on her shoulders, she set off back to Markarth.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

A couple of hours later, she was seriously reconsidering his suggestion to stay the night in Falkreath. As the sun dipped below the mountains, the wind had picked up, blowing across the tundra and chilling her to the bone. Her travelling cloak didn't do much to keep her warm, and it felt like it was getting colder every passing moment. Even the eerie villagers of Falkreath seemed like a pleasant alternative to another moment in this frigid forest.

Her breath came out in a white puff and she shivered as the wind sheared through her cloak again. Keeping her head bowed and eyes on the path, she attempted to stay warm. Her eyes were burning, a combination of how late it was and the lack of sleep she had been getting for the past month. Her body ached and she could swear that her fingers had frozen to her cloak.

Brynjolf, on the other hand, didn't seem affected by the temperature at all. In fact, it almost looked like he enjoyed it, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the icy blasts, a gentle smile curving his mouth.

Opening his eyes, his smile faded away as he looked over at her. "Come on lass, we're stopping for the night. You look like you're about to keel over."

Ariana tried to protest, but he touched her upper arm, guiding her towards a sheltered outcropping by the side of the road. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be out of the biting wind. Here, protected from the elements, it was almost like being warm.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going to get some firewood."

Watching him disappear out of sight, she turned her gaze skyward, taking in the multitude of stars that sparkled overhead. Up above, the sky was awash in green flickering light, she believed it was called _aurora borealis_. It never failed to take her breath away. This was the one thing about Skyrim she loved above all else - there were no stars like these in Anvil.

The shadows shifted around her and she tensed, letting out a breath when Brynjolf appeared from the darkness, arms full of wood. Ariana watched with interest as he worked to get a fire going, sparks from the flint and steel illuminating the look of concentration on his face. The tinder caught and he brought the bundle to his mouth, using his breath to coax the spark into flame. Surrounded by smoke, illuminated by the budding flame, he looked like a Nordic hero plucked from a history book.

Ariana stared, taking in the scars that ran up his cheek and the reddish stubble on his chin. In the firelight, his eyes were dark and fathomless. Turning, he caught her eyes and she looked away, warming in a way that had nothing to do with the fire.

He sat down beside her with a thump. Ariana shifted slightly, moving a little further away from him and made a startled noise as he wrapped a heavy fur around her shoulders. She looked over to find him rummaging through his pack. "Feeling hungry lass?"

Her stomach growled loudly before she could respond and she ducked her head, an embarrassed smile escaping her. Brynjolf laughed, pulling out a loaf of bread and breaking it in two. "I'll take that as a yes. Won't be able to make anything warm unfortunately, but I brought some mead for that."

She took the proffered cold hunk of bread, breaking a piece off the end and chewing thoughtfully. He bumped her arm with an elbow, offering a chunk of cheese.

"What's on your mind Ariana?"

She looked over the glittering snow, trying to reign in the chaotic thoughts. "I'm homesick," she admitted at last. "I mean, I shouldn't be. I know it'd never be the same if I went back…"

"But you miss it all the same," he finished for her and she nodded slowly. "Home's like that, lass. You remember the good times, the warm memories, and when you go back, there's just a pile of rubble and weeds."

She looked over at him sharply, surprised at the wistful expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "I left home as a lad, seeking my fortune. By the time I went back, there was nothing left. I don't rightly know what happened."

Ariana felt a pang of sympathy for the Nord. "Guess we both know a thing or two about wanting what we can't have."

He smiled wanly, passing her a bottle of mead. "To family," he toasted.

"Family," she echoed, taking a gulp from the bottle and grimacing at the taste of the beverage. "Ugh. Why do people drink this?"

Brynjolf shifted, leaning back against the rock wall. "Because it keeps you warm on the cold Skyrim nights."

"The only thing it's ever done for me is give me a headache," Ariana retorted, looking down at the bottle skeptically. When she looked up, she caught his slight grin as he tilted his bottle of mead towards her, inviting her to keep drinking. With a huff, she followed suit, surprised to find that the bitter chill of the night wasn't as bad as she'd first thought. Actually, tucked away from the wind, warmed by the mead and the company, it wasn't bad at all.

A particularly strong blast of wind cut through their shelter, making the flames of the campfire flicker low. She shivered and Brynjolf offered her a sympathetic smile. Raising his arm he cocked his head, gesturing for her to come and share the voluminous warmth of his own traveling cloak. Ariana shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm fine."

Even in the darkness she could make out the Nord's eyeroll. "I'm not trying to get fresh with your stubborn, frozen arse," he said, amusement bleeding into the frustrated words. "I'm trying to keep us from freezing to death through the night."

Ariana felt an arm close around hers and suddenly she was pulled off balance, enveloped in blissful warmth. Beside her, Brynjolf was strong and solid, smelling like campfire smoke and pine. She huddled into the warmness with a contented sigh, unmindful that it meant pressing herself against his side. The only thing that mattered was the blessed reprieve from the frigid night. There was a moment of startled silence, then he chuckled, closing the thick cloak around them both.


	11. Dragonborn

A/N: An alternative title to this chapter is OHEY DRAGON. Just in case you're curious. Thanks to GoddessLaughs and Manu for for lovely reviews!

Brynjolf woke with a sore neck and a warm weight against his side. Looking down, he could only see a tangle of black hair to mark where Ariana slept, the rest of her body curled up beneath the heavy cloak. She stirred, then settled back to sleep and Brynjolf was suddenly, acutely, aware that her hand had come to rest on his inner thigh. Oblivious, the Imperial burrowed deeper into his chest and Brynjolf bit back a groan.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull away without waking her. Ariana seeing him in his current state was the last thing he needed. With a muttered curse at the Divines for their cruelty, he nudged her hand off of his leg. She made a quiet noise of protest as he moved her to lean against the stone instead of his shoulder, but she did not wake. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Brynjolf unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders and tucked it securely around the sleeping Imperial.

Coming to crouch by the long extinguished fire, he shivered in the cold winter air. Beside him, Ariana whimpered sleepily at the change in temperature, grabbing at the edges of the cloak and pulling her legs closer to herself. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he made to rise to his feet, surprised when she reached out, grasping at his armor.

"Bryn?"

He looked over, shocked by her sudden familiarity. "What is it, lass?"

"S'cold," she muttered, and he chuckled.

"That is is, lass," he agreed, gently pulling her slender hands off. "Stay here, I'll be back in a bit."

She didn't respond, her expression peaceful. On impulse, he planted a chaste kiss against her forehead before turning to leave.

The warm sunshine mixed with the crisp wind creating a pleasant blend of sensations as he strolled away from their camp. Stopping at the bank of a rushing river, he sat down on a boulder, stretching his legs and looking out at the flowing water.

It had been a while since he had left Riften on Guild business. The Guild Master had not been happy with the idea of his second in command heading off across Skyrim, especially not with the infamously disruptive Ariana, but in the end Brynjolf had pointed out that she was his protégé, and his responsibility. The last time she had been in Markarth, she hadn't returned for a month, and they couldn't afford to let that happen again. He was certain the clever Breton could see right through his half-truths to his real motives, but in the end Brynjolf had gotten what he wanted.

And look what he got for his efforts: a sore head and a bulge in his pants. She was driving him mad, no two ways about it.

There were still so many unanswered questions. He was starting to form a picture about the Imperial, but every answer she gave left him with so much left unexplained - how she was able to Shout for example. He shook his head. It was not an unheard of skill, but from someone who wasn't a Nord… Couple that with the very reason she was in his life, and it led him to wonder. Looking for an Elder Scroll was strange enough, but in Whiterun she had mentioned some kind of destiny. What was she hiding, and what exactly was she intending to do?

Brynjolf pushed himself up from his seat, stretching muscles made stiff from sleeping sitting upright. Asking her was out of the question; Ariana was infuriatingly stubborn, and prideful, but beyond that, she was afraid. He could see it every time she let her guard down, whenever she thought he wasn't watching. The way she would jump whenever he would speak unexpectedly. What frightened her so much?

He felt a bitter smile tug at his lips. No use chasing that thought any longer. She would tell him when she was ready, or not at all. With one last look at the river, the Nord headed back to the campsite.

Ariana was sitting back against the wall when he arrived, looking around blearily as if she had just woken up, still wrapped in his cloak. "Morning lass," he greeted.

"Morning," she yawned, covering her mouth with a hand.

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a pair of apples. He tossed one to her, laughing as she fumbled it with a surprised yelp. "We should make an early start of it, eat on the way to Markarth."

Ariana scrunched up her face at the suggestion. She rolled the apple around in her hands, back and forth, head tilted to the side as she thought. "We still have that job in Solitude, right?"

"Aye."

She sighed, and the apple stopped. "Let's get to it then."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

They reached Markarth before midday, quickly tracking down Endon and returning his silver mold. The Redguard had been grateful, promising to tell Delvin of their success and offering his services as a fence. On their way out of the city, Ariana had pulled on Brynjolf's arm, and something in her face made him stop.

"I wanted to do one last thing, before we left."

Brynjolf raised a brow, wordlessly inviting her to continue.

She took a deep breath. "The shrine of Talos. I wanted to… It's where…" She trailed off, face troubled. After a moment Ariana closed her eyes, expression becoming determined. "I need to tell Eltrys it's finally over."

Brynjolf nodded, surprised by her sudden vulnerability. Even battered and half-naked, she hadn't seemed as exposed as she was now. He reached out to touch her shoulder. "Lead the way."

The road was narrow, flanked on either side by tall buildings, and a left turn led them to a set of stairs that seemed to go nowhere. Upon closer examination, however, Brynjolf noticed that there, nestled under the cliff, was an alcove with a hidden door. She paused at the entrance, hand pressed against the metal door, her face pale and wan.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked softly.

"No," she said, worrying her lip between her teeth, "but, thank you." Giving him a strained smile, she disappeared inside the shrine, the metal door clanging shut behind her.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

The temple was quiet, dusty, and mercifully empty. Ariana's footsteps sounded loudly against the smooth stone steps as she descended to the shrine, eyes flickering about the dimly lit room. In the corner, almost out of view and faded by time, was a dark smear on the floor, a ruddy brown mark that was all that remained.

"Eltrys," she whispered in the silence, her steps making the candles flicker as she came to kneel in front of the stain. As she closed her eyes, she could still see his body, crumpled on the floor while the guards stood over his still form, their weapons raised menacingly.

"It's done. Madanach will never hurt another."

She felt the final shreds of her composure fall away, and she covered her eyes as the tears began to flow. Here, alone, she was safe to let out all the pain, the fear, the hate, the guilt. She had been trying to help him find closure, to find out who had killed his father, and why. His plea had struck a chord with her, the memory of her own parents making his story hit too close to home for her to ignore.

And she was the reason he had died. Who else but a stranger would be so reckless as to challenge the richest family in the Reach? She had never even considered there might be consequences for what she had been doing. Now his child would grow up never knowing a father, just as Eltrys had done.

"I left Rhaida some gold," Ariana said into the empty room, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I know it won't be the same. But it's more than nothing. I thought it was the least I could do."

She sat back on her heels, taking a few moments to steady herself. She knew that Brynjolf had seen her in far worse states, and she knew that she needed help, but the idea of heading out to the city, and to him, tear-streaked was out of the question. The pain in her heart was overwhelming, and she had no intention of adding the discomfort of being exposed and vulnerable to her churning emotions.

Pushing herself up from the ground, she climbed out of the shrine. The heavy metal door grated against the stone as she stepped out into the sunlight, and she angrily scrubbed at red-rimmed eyes as Brynjolf's gaze came to rest on her. Ariana didn't give him a chance to say anything, she didn't want empty words. She swept past him and down on to the street, heading to the gate. The sooner she was out of this city the better. With any luck, she would never have to come back.

A few quick words with the carriage driver at the stables outside and they were on their way. The Imperial sat sideways on the bench, one leg folded beneath her as she looked over the mountains that surrounded Markarth. The trip to Solitude was long and winding, unlike the relatively straight road to Falkreath. She had been tempted to suggest they walk the distance, but getting to the city before nightfall would help avoid another unwelcome and uncomfortable sleep outside.

The carriage jerked over an uneven piece of road and Ariana grabbed onto the side as she was jolted away from the pleasant remembrance. Across from her, Brynjolf gave her a wry grin that she returned with a slight smile. Sleeping out in the open hadn't be _entirely _uncomfortable… not with his arm wrapped around her, keeping her close and protected from the night's chill.

A shadow fell over the carriage and Ariana turned to look at the familiar mountain peak to her right, its summit obscured with thick white clouds. Sky Haven Temple.

Guilt dropped like a stone in her stomach. It had been a long time since she had last spoken to the Blades, since they had sent out to gather information from the Greybeards about the Shout that would kill Alduin. And months later, she was still no closer to knowing the answer. The failure tasted bitter in her mouth.

"What in the name of the Eight has that mountain done to you, lass?" Brynjolf teased, raising an eyebrow. "The look you're giving it could turn it to rubble."

She glared at him. "It got too nosy."

He laughed at her bad temper, and Ariana felt a smile threatening the corners of her mouth. She quickly turned away so he wouldn't see it. "What is the job in Solitude?" she asked, staring resolutely down the road.

She heard the sound of fabric as he moved, and from the corner of her eyes she caught sight of him leaning back against the side of the carriage with his arms spread wide. "You recall the letter you found in Honningbrew Meadery?"

Ariana nodded. "I thought Mercer had sent someone else to take care of that."

Brynjolf made a disgruntled noise. "Oh, he sent someone, but they made a complete mess out of it." He gestured, expansively, "Not that it was Cynric's fault. Gulum-Ei apparently anticipated trouble, and hired some muscle to back him up. It was almost like someone tipped the lizard off."

"So now it's our turn to try?" There was no way she could disguise the displeasure in her voice.

"No," he admonished, "it's our turn to teach the bastard a lesson."

She snorted. "You're over-confident."

"And you have no faith in my abilities," he retorted gamely.

"Says the man who was selling Falmer Blood Elixir in the Riften market."

Brynjolf laughed, completely unashamed. "And you should have seen how many people bought it!"

The Imperial turned to look at him, incredulous. "You're kidding me."

"No, I'm not," he chuckled, green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Brought in a fair amount of coin for the Guild before anyone caught on."

"Brynjolf, you're terrible!" Her exclamation lacked any real conviction. He gave her a rakish smile, eyebrows raised, making her laugh. "I hope you bring that confidence to Solitude."

"I have good reason to be confident," he said, sobering. "I have the advantage of having an Imperial who can Shout on my side."

Ariana's good mood plummeted and she felt every muscle in her body stiffen.

Brynjolf sighed at her reaction. "What the point of denying it lass? I've already seen you use it first hand."

The memory of her reckless, blinding rage in Markarth surfaced like a bloated corpse out of water and she bowed her head in shame.

Ulfric had used a Shout to kill the High King and she, in her furor, had unleashed the same power on an equally innocent man. Arianna looked over at the red-haired thief, a jolt of worry making her stomach clench. "I didn't…" her voice broke, and she swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She saw how his hand unconsciously moved to his head even as he denied it, and she knew she had.

"Let me see." The request was a whisper, barely making it past her lips. Ariana moved over to sit beside him on the bench, and he turned, dropping his head slightly so she could have a better view. With hesitant fingers, she parted the unruly mass of copper coloured hair, and saw the bruised lump on the back of his head.

"Brynjolf, I'm… I'm sorry." She looked down at her hands, guilt threatening to swallow her whole.

He shrugged. "I've had worse injuries. That one was just the most unexpected."

She could tell he was trying to make her feel better, but it wasn't working. She lapsed into silence, listening to the jingle of the horses' harness and the steady roll of the wheels over the road. Brynjolf pulled her out of her thoughts as he spoke again.

"How do you know how to Shout?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't understand it myself. It just… happened one day." The day she had found out she could absorb a dragon's soul.

He quirked a brow. "Must have been some day."

A brittle laugh slipped out of her. If only he knew. Nearly dying at Helgen - first from the headsman's axe, then from a giant fire-breathing dragon - the escape to Riverwood, the warning to Whiterun, fighting a dragon outside the city, and meeting the Greybeards who revealed she was Dragonborn. "It certainly wasn't expected. I had hoped that Skyrim would have proven to be a bit more boring."

"You certainly have a habit of getting into the strangest situations," his tone was light, but Ariana could see his eyes were sharp. "What happened to that old man you were looking for?"

She shrugged. "Turns out he needs someone to run around the province for him. Something to do with him being old."

Brynjolf scoffed, face sour and Ariana felt a stab of remorse for the distance she was putting between them. But how could she tell him the truth?

"And how are you tied in to all of this, lass?"

"Would you believe I have a hard time saying no to people?"

He growled. "You want my help in finding an Elder Scroll, but you won't tell me why or what it is you're trying to do. You fight dragons without a thought and talk about some destiny to save the world…" he trailed off, eying her with new scrutiny. Ariana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to escape his piercing gaze.

"I've heard rumors from around Skyrim lately," he said softly, after an agonizing silence. "People speak of the return of the Dragonborn of legend."

She kept her eyes pinned to the floor of the carriage, counting the knots in the wooden boards. She couldn't look at him. "I… hadn't heard." The lie sounded weak even to her.

"That's surprising. Seems like it's all anyone talks about these days."

Panic was growing in her stomach, and Ariana tried to remain calm. "I don't listen to rumors."

"You should," his tone was calculated, careful. "They can be a veritable goldmine of information. People say the Dragonborn's Shouts can shake the mountains, and yet no one can quite describe what she looks like - though I have heard it said she's a little short for an Imperial."

She looked up sharply, realizing her mistake a moment too late. Her reaction had just given him the confirmation he was fishing for. Ariana buried her head in her hands, the curse on her lips as vile as it was creative.

"So it is you." The Nord crossed his arms. "Why is every piece of information such a struggle with you? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"What did you want me to tell you Brynjolf?" Something inside her snapped. "That I arrived in Skyrim and nearly died, three times in one day? That I spend a huge chunk of time running from dragons who seem to follow me across the entire damned province? That no matter where I go, or what I do, ruin follows in my wake?"

Brynjolf's face betrayed nothing. "That would have been a start."

"A start?" she cried, not believing what she had heard. "You think this was something I could just tell you? That you'd have just told me, in good faith, where to find Esbern? Because I seem to recall a different set of events! You have been fighting me every step of the way, so why should I have told you anything?"

"I've given you just as much information as you've given me."

Ariana grit her teeth in frustration. "Brynjolf, did it ever occur to you that there might be a reason why I haven't told you? Do you not understand how dangerous this all is?"

Reaching to rub the back of his head, he gave her a hard look. "I have an idea."

Guilt flared through her again and she cupped a hand, summoning the golden glow of her healing spell. "Let me help."

"Don't bother," he said tersely. "I'm fine."

She glared at him. "You do not get to condemn me for withholding information from you! This was just business - I help you, you help me."

He stiffened, eyes flashing. "Is that all this is to you?"

"I…" she broke off, unable to look at him as her anger drained out of her as quickly as it had come. "No. No, it's not. But I have a job to do. There's no space for what I want."

"And what, exactly, do you want, lass?"

Ariana opened her mouth to reply, but stopped short when the carriage lurched to one side, throwing her from her seat. She pushed herself off the floor, looking towards the driver. "Why did we stop?"

The driver toppled from the front seat and onto the ground, an arrow lodged in his chest.

"Shor's beard," Brynjolf swore, tapping her arm and pointing to the ruined fort built into the side of the narrow stretch of road. It was swarming with Forsworn, weapons drawn.

Ariana let out a stream of curses involving Daedra and several lewd acts that were as uncouth as they were physically impossible. "No chance of us having a nice, peaceful ride to Solitude then."

Brynjolf snorted, quickly dropping down below the side the carriage as arrows flew down from above. "We need to get out of the open."

"I can see that you s'wit," she grumbled as leapt down from the carriage, taking cover behind it as she pulled out her bow.

Brynjolf was by her side in an instant, scanning the deteriorating building. "I counted at least three archers on the rooftop, maybe more."

"I'll take care of the archers," she said, already nocking an arrow. "You just watch my back."

Lining up her shot, Ariana loosed the arrow, sending an archer tumbling from the ramparts. She quickly ducked back into cover as the returning volley rained from the sky, bouncing off the cobblestones at her feet.

An errant arrow buried itself in the flank of one of the horses and the animal screamed, rearing back. There was the thundering sound of hooves as the injured beast spooked its mate and they took off down the road, dragging the overturned carriage in tow.

"Son of a bitch!" Ariana cursed, flattening herself against the earth, hunting for new cover.

Brynjolf grabbed her arm, dragging her back down the road and behind a short embankment. "Watch yourself!"

On the road, she caught sight of a Forsworn scout running towards them. She drew back her bow, edging forward while trying to keep below the top of the embankment at the same time. A rain of arrows sent her dodging back into cover, nearly falling over Brynjolf in the process.

"Would you be careful?" His strong arms steadied her, even as his terse words grated in her ear. Without a reply, she took down the charging scout, hissing a curse as another two fur-clad men dropped down onto the road. There could be a garrison of them inside the fort, and there was no way the two of them could survive that.

Ariana sent the red-haired Nord a sidelong glance as she notched an arrow, taking sight of the closest of the Forsworn. "What do we do?"

"You have the most experience with Forsworn," he responded, and there was no missing the biting edge to his words. "It's your call."

If she wasn't so concerned with the approaching warriors, she could have hit him. "Could this wait until we get out of here alive?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath, but she couldn't care. To Oblivion with the man anyway. The Imperial released the arrow, dropping the nearest Forsworn with a gurgling cry. As she lined up her next shot, something landed on her from above and she was sent to the ground in a sprawl of limbs. There was a person on her back, and a sword at her neck and she couldn't even Shout to save herself.

Then the weight lifted and she felt a spray of liquid hit the back of her neck. She was hauled to her feet by an arm, and then Brynjolf was slicing through the next enemy, daggers moving too quickly to be seen. As more Forsworn dropped down around them, Ariana readied her blade and sent a prayer to the Divines.

Up above came an all too familiar screech, and the Imperial looked skywards, eyes wide, willing the sound to be something, anything other than what she knew it to be. "No! Not now!"

But there was no mistaking the thunderous flap of wings, or the accompanying rumble as the earth quaked under the creature's massive weight. Dragon.

The beast had landed on the opposing cliff, looking down at the Forsworn below with a malicious gaze. Though she did not fully understand the language of the dragons, she understood the word it spoke as fire poured from its maw, roasting the Forsworn warriors where they stood.

The remaining archers turned their attention to the green scaled dragon, completely ignoring the fight on the road below them. After a moment of shock, the two thieves were swept back into the fray, whittling away the remaining enemies as the rest of the Forsworn turned to fight the beast.

The Imperial sheathed her blade, wiping blood away from her face and looked towards Brynjolf. He seemed no worse for wear, while she could already feel painful bruises forming beneath her armor. He gestured to the exit of the canyon with his head. Sending one last look above her, she nodded, following close behind him as they hugged the rocky wall.

There was a gut-wrenching scream as the dragon snapped forward, grabbing one of the Forsworn in its jaw before throwing the hapless man down to the road far below. He landed with a sickening thud in front of Ariana, head bursting like a rotten melon on the stones. She stepped back, hand over her mouth in horror at the gruesome sight. Brynjolf yanked her back into motion, moving her past the dead body and closer to freedom.

They had almost made it to the end of the canyon when the dragon took wing again, shrieking down fire on top of them. They plastered themselves to the wall, trying to avoid the burning flames as the dragon passed overhead.

"We need room to move, we're easy targets here!" Ariana cried.

Brynjolf nodded curtly, pushing her ahead of him as the two of them raced to the flat land beyond the stone walls. Suddenly, the dragon was in front of them, landing heavily and blocking off their escape. Ariana took in a deep breath. There was no need to hide her abilities any longer.

"**FUS RO DAH!**"

The dragon staggered back with a roar of rage, and Brynjolf leapt forward, his daggers catching the beast in its eye. It howled in agony, tossing the Nord to the side with a shake of its head. Ariana let her arrows fly, but the beast was already climbing back into the sky and they fell short of their mark. She ran to Brynjolf's side, helping him to his feet while at the same time healing any injuries he had suffered.

He narrowed his eyes. "I bloody well told you not to."

"Shut up and get moving!"

As they reached the plain, Ariana looked up, trying to see where the dragon was. The creature swept over them, screaming, forcing them to dive to the side to avoid the blaze.

Brynjolf growled as he pushed himself up from the hard ground. "How are we going to do this?"

"Same as the last time," she replied, trying to catch her breath. "I'll get it's attention and you'll stab it. Just, try not to get hit this time?"

He made a rude gesture and they both stumbled as the dragon landed in front of them. "Go!" she shouted, pulling arrows from her quiver as she faced down the beast. It reared back, expelling another deadly stream of fire, and she only barely managed to avoid getting burned. As she climbed to her feet, she could hear the dragon's pained roar. She turned and saw the creature turn on Brynjolf, biting at the Nord with its razor sharp maw. He stumbled over uneven ground, falling backwards and Ariana was in motion, running towards the creature.

"**FUS RO DAH!**"

The dragon staggered sideways, and the Imperial wasted no time, loosing arrows two and three at a time. Snarling, it turned towards her, mouth snapping as it moved forward. She dodged backwards, treading carefully as she continued to send arrow after arrow into its scaly hide.

It lurched forward, crying out in agony before crashing on the ground in front of her, making the earth shake and forcing her to take a step backwards. Looking up, she saw Brynjolf, wiping blackened blood off of his daggers before sheathing them. Then came the familiar light as the dragon disintegrated in front of her, its scales peeling in a flameless golden shimmer, followed by the rush of exhilarating heat as she absorbed its soul. She stepped back, gasping as the dragons soul sparked through her bloodstream, making her entire body burn.

Memories flooded her mind, the feeling of air her beneath massive wings, mate at her side, the satisfaction of hunting scurrying creatures that resided on the lands below, the bloody days of the Dragon Wars, the agony of the death of an immortal, the confusion of life returned in a strange place all passed through her head in an instant.

When she had recovered, Brynjolf stood at her side, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. "Dragonborn."

She nodded, still reeling from the soul that had just joined hers. "So I've been told."

"It's a long trip to Solitude," he remarked as he turned away. "We should get moving."


	12. Hero Business

A/N: Thanks to the anonymous Guest, GoddessLaughs, PizzaAndBeer, KarysDvasia and lady73 for your lovely reviews, AND an EXTRA SPECIAL thanks to Id65 for letting me wake up to SEVEN reviews - one for each chapter you missed. You are stellar and absolutely made my day you lovely lovely person you.

The moons were rising over Skyrim as Solitude finally came into sight. Framed by the bloated, red Masser and it's smaller, silver mate Secunda, the city stood like a sentinel over the Sea of Ghosts.

There was still a distance to go before they climbed that hill and through the tall gates into Solitude. Ariana stole a sidelong glance at her traveling companion. Brynjolf had barely spoken to her since the Forsworn and the dragon. The memory of their angry dispute came back to her and she rubbed at her eyes.

When had everything gotten so complicated?

She shook the thought from her head. Given his cold fury and refusal as to so much as look at her, whatever had been happening between them was over now, simplifying everything. It was as it should have been from the beginning.

The thought shouldn't have ached like it did.

Ariana's breath plumed white as she climbed the hill to Solitude. Of all the cities in Skyrim, this one was her favourite. Strong stone buildings graced the town, attired with creeping ivy and hanging moss. The crisp sea breeze rippled the leaves of the lush trees and threw dappled shadows across the cobblestone roads. Ariana smiled in spite of herself, remembering gaily colored festival banners hung in the market and flickering torchbugs that came out at night.

As they passed through the gates, a sleepy-eyed guard she had seen months prior stood up a little straighter. "Solitude wouldn't be the same without the Fire Festival," he called, "the City owes you a debt of gratitude."

She ducked her head and muttered an acknowledgement, keenly aware of Brynjolf's eyes on her. Moving faster, she passed the market square.

"The inn's back that way," Brynjolf's voice was terse and she stopped underneath the archway to Castle Dour.

"I have a house."

Silence reigned. Ariana could hear the sound of the water rushing through the sewers below the streets and the cry of the hawks that circled above the city.

When Brynjolf finally spoke, his words were colder than Skyrim's nights. "Lead the way."

Wordlessly, she continued down the road, taking the left turn past the Hall of the Dead and coming to a stop before the plain wooden door to the bottom floor of Proudspire Manor. She pulled out a key, pausing as she heard her name from down the road.

"Ataf?" She looked curiously at the Reguard. "Is something wrong?"

The bard smiled as he came to a stop outside her door. "No, nothing is the matter. I saw you were back in the city and wanted to come say hello. We were wondering when you'd be coming back to the College - it has been far too long that you've been gone."

"Ataf…" she trailed off; she didn't have the luxury of time and certainly not enough for a trip to the College, but quailed in the wake of his hopeful look. "Could we discuss this tomorrow?"

"Of course! Have a good night," he agreed amicably, turning back towards the Bard's College.

Ariana drooped slightly before pushing open the door to her house. Looking back to where Brynjolf stood silently, she saw he had his arms crossed across his broad chest, face closed and hard.

"Are you planning on sleeping in the streets tonight?" she snapped, frustrated with his behaviour.

"Maybe." He returned her glare with a scowl that would have dropped birds from the sky.

"Well if you decide to stop being an ass, you can take the room at the top of the stairs."

She stalked into her home, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline that had been fueling her for the last several hours finally ebbed away. She stood, leaning against the wall, her heart thundering in her chest as she listened for any sound from the end of the hallway. With a small sigh of relief, she heard the door open and Brynjolf's deliberately heavy footfalls.

"I'm going to have some supper," she announced, to no one in particular.

Her only reply was the sound of Brynjolf climbing her stairs as he brushed by her without a word. This was followed almost immediately by an incensed shout and a crash that shook the entire house. _What in Oblivion… Jordis! _How could she have forgotten? Ariana bolted up the stairs two at a time, reaching the second floor to be greeted with the sight of Brynjolf, pinned up against the wall, Jordis holding her heavy sword to his throat.

"My thane!" Jordis barked, "I found this thief in the house! Shall I alert the guards?"

"Jordis, let him go!" Ariana exclaimed.

The blond haired Nord shot her a confused glance from the corner of her eye. "My thane?"

"He is… traveling with me."

"Of course my thane," Jordis sheathed her sword at once, stepping back and giving Brynjolf a frosty glare.

Brynjolf returned the stare evenly, straightened his armor, and continued up the stairs. Ariana winced as the door slammed shut.

"My thane?"

Ariana held up a silencing hand. "It's complicated."

Dinner forgotten, she trudged up the stairs after the red-haired thief, sending a look to the shut door beside her room. Trepidation coiled in her gut like a rotting snake, and she wished there was some way she could take back the last twelve hours and return to where she had lain, warm and safe, against Brynjolf's side. Dragging her eyes away from the door, she walked into her room and shut the door behind her with a faint click.

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf was jolted out of sleep by the sound of a scream. Years of experience had him on his feet, dagger drawn a full moment before he remembered that he was in Ariana's home in Solitude. He relaxed and sheathed his blade as the terrified scream turned into the sound of muffled sobs.

He grabbed his tunic, pulling the rough fabric over his head with a curse. It didn't matter how angry he was at her, he wasn't about to let her suffer alone.

"Ariana?" He whispered, cracking the door and slipping inside.

She gasped, and in the darkness he could see her scrub her hands over her face before raking them through the tangle of her black hair. "You shouldn't be in here." Her words were weak and watery and Brynjolf frowned at how fragile she sounded.

He ignored her protest, coming to sit beside her on the bed. "I heard you scream, it woke me."

Clutching at the blanket, she blew out a breath. "I'm sorry." The statement was sudden and raw, and in the silence that followed, Brynjolf heard a thousand implications, and a thousand apologies.

"It's fine."

Ariana looked at him. "You... should go back to bed."

"In a bit," he agreed, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. "What's wrong?"

She turned her head away, and there were tears in her voice when she spoke. "It was just a dream."

"Must have been a bad one," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she said, falling silent.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," she replied at once, then sighed heavily. "Anvil. The farm," her voice faltered and she cleared her throat, "my... parents."

Brynjolf nodded, encouraging her with silent attentiveness.

"I went to the city on an errand," she continued shakily. "My father wanted to see if there were any new goods in off the merchant ships, and my mother asked for alchemy supplies. I was happy to go - staying at the farm too long always made me restless. I didn't realize something was wrong until I was coming back."

Swiping at her eyes, Ariana turned her face to the ceiling. "There was a column of smoke up on the hill where our farm was. I remember the Thalmor who passed me on the road - those bastards smirked at me as they went by. And the farm…There was so much damage. Da was so burnt I couldn't recognize him. I held Ma as she … died."

Brynjolf looked away, lips pressing together at the idea of a younger, more innocent Ariana, destruction all around her, cradling her mother as she died. "If you had been there, you would have died too."

"It doesn't matter!" she cried, thumping her fists against the bed. "I should have done something! If I had known even a little bit about Restoration magic, maybe… maybe…"

Brynjolf cupped her cheek, pulling her tear-filled eyes to him. "Don't be a fool, Ariana. There was nothing to be done. You were there for her in the end, and she got to know you were safe. That's all a mother wants."

"I just wish things could have been different," the Imperial whispered. "It... still hurts, so much, after all this time."

A shadow flitted behind Brynjolf's eyes and he fought back the memory that was trying to surface. "It was your family, lass, their loss is always going to hurt. But killing yourself with grief isn't going to bring them back. "

"They never should have died to begin with."

He offered her a small smile, hoping it wasn't as strained as it felt. "We all die, lass. Your mum got to have the peace of mind that her daughter was okay." His smile faded. "It's not a comfort most people get."

She let out a soft sigh. "I know… " Another tear rolled down her cheek into his cupped hand. "Thank you."

Brynjolf stood, looking out the frosted glass windows to the lightening sky. "How about I make us something to eat? The sun will be up in a little while anyway."

Ariana pushed herself up from the bed, leaning on her elbows. "I'll cook."

"Don't trust me with food?" he joked, feeling his smile become easier, more genuine.

"I've heard the horror stories of what strange meals are created whenever it's your turn to cook for the Guild. I'll do it." Her voice had regained some of its usual liveliness, and he grinned, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Far be it from me to complain, lass." He would have done anything to take away that haunted, lost look in her blue eyes. A meal was a small price to pay.

"Good," she nodded. "Now get out and let me get dressed."

Brynjolf stepped out into the corridor, waiting for her to emerge from her room. He wondered, briefly, how many people she had told that particular story to. In his experience, the Imperial wasn't one to trust lightly. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind to consider later as she appeared in the hall, following her through the house.

He watched from the doorway of the kitchen as Ariana busied herself, grabbing ingredients off of shelves in a flurry of efficiency and dropping them onto a cutting board.

"Need any help?" he asked, amused.

She looked over from the shelf where she was grabbing a small tin. "Grab a knife, chop some of those apples," she said, gesturing towards the cutting board.

"So, thane of Solitude?" he asked as he obliged.

"Yes," Ariana replied, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Along with Whiterun _and _Riften?"

She stretched up to reach for a grey pot on the top shelf. "It's just a title," she dismissed. "Kill a couple of dragons and suddenly people think you're some kind of legendary hero."

"Except you are some kind of legendary hero, Dragonborn," he pointed out.

She turned to face him, scowl on her lips. "Don't you start calling me that too!"

Brynjolf quirked a brow at her displeasure, pausing mid-slice. "Oh?"

"I'm tired of people looking at me like I'm some kind of damned savior who'll fix the wrongs of the world!" she growled. "I'm Ariana Pellonius, not some kind of mythical warrior borne of Akatosh!"

"You being Dragonborn doesn't change how I think of you, lass," he paused, considering his next words. "It just fills in a few more details."

The Imperial blew out a disgruntled breath, dropping the container of thick, golden honey on the table before grabbing a pot and filling it with water. She placed it over the fire, grumbling to herself before she turned back towards the shelves. When she came back, she was holding a small burlap bag. Dropping it on the table, she came over to see what he was doing.

"Oh, Brynjolf, not with the cores!" she cried.

The Nord looked down at the apples he had sliced. "Does it make a difference?"

She sighed, grabbing the knife from his hand and shooing him away. "Of course it makes a difference, you oaf."

He chuckled as she took over his task, slicing the apples into small pieces and discarding the cores. As she worked, she hummed softly, pausing every now and again to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

He listened for a moment, enjoying the sound of her voice, then settled into a chair. "How did you end up involved with the Bard's College, lass?"

"They hold the records of Skyrim's history," she said, and gestured at the now neatly diced, perfectly coreless apples. "I had hoped that one of the ancient poems or songs there could direct me to the Elder Scrolls."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow and made a show of admiring the fruit. "And?"

Reaching for the burlap bag, she dumped several handfuls of oats into the now-boiling water. "I ended up halfway across the province while the Scholars tried to find what I was looking for."

"Without any luck," Brynjolf pointed out dryly, "which is why you ended up in the Thieves Guild."

Ariana swept the apple pieces into the pot, looking contrite. "To begin with, yes. As it turns out, the Thieves Guild has more to offer than I originally thought."

"Does it now?" he teased, unable to hold in his laughter at her alarmed expression.

"Yes. I mean, no!" She covered her face with a hand, unsuccessfully trying to cover her now flaming red cheeks. "Would you just shut up and eat your breakfast?"

Brynjolf obliged; the hot cereal tasted much better than it looked. The apples gave the dish a sweet crunch, and the spices Ariana had added kept it from being bland. He noticed as she added several large dollops of honey to her own bowl.

"I have… some business to attend to today," she said, attention focused on the sugar-laden concoction she was creating.

"Oh?"

"At the Blue Palace." Ariana hesitated. "You don't have to come along if you don't want to. I know our priority is to find Gulum-Ei."

A chance to get into the Blue Palace without worrying about the guards. He considered the prospect. It'd be criminal to waste such an opportunity, especially when it was being presented to him on a silver platter. "It'd be nice to see the Palace in the day time."

The Imperial looked up sharply, then rolled her eyes at his mischievous smirk. "Try to keep your hands to yourself, please?"

"No promises, lass."

)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(=)\-*-/(

Brynjolf hadn't anticipated that Ariana's 'business' would result in the two of them delving deep under the city killing Draugr to stop the resurrection of the Wolf Queen. He shuddered as he recalled the woman's taunting voice that had carressed them as they had entered the abandoned rooms below the Temple of the Divines. Ariana's face had grown cold at the ancient Queen's words, her fist clenched at her sides.

He glanced over at the dark-haired Imperial. Practiced and precise, she had her bow at the ready, slipping silently past empty casks. Suddenly, she drew an arrow and let it fly. The Nord looked around, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary - until one of the undead stepped out of an alcove on the level below.

A second arrow quickly sent the decaying monster to the floor, and Ariana caught Brynjolf's eye. She shrugged. "Can't be too careful," she whispered in explanation, moving deeper into the catacombs.

As Ariana passed a darkened corner, Brynjolf spotted a Draugr as it shambled out behind her, ancient axe raised in its hands. There was no time to shout a warning and he was in motion immediately, well honed blades slicing through the undead flesh. The creature staggered forward, and Brynjolf kept moving along with it, reaching up and sending the armoured head clanking to the floor and rolling toward Ariana's feet.

She glanced down at what was left of the creature then offered him a wordless look of thanks.

"Watch yourself, lass," he reminded, falling into step behind her as they kept moving.

Finally, after passing through the hidden caves into what looked like an ancient burial mound, they stood on either side of an ornate iron door in the very bowels of the crypt. Ariana pushed the door open a crack, immediately letting it fall shut again. She let out a breath.

"How does it look?"

When she glanced over at him, the expression on her face told him that she was already running through ways to deal with whatever was on the other side of the door. "There's a lot of them," she reported, biting her bottom lip.

Brynjolf grimaced. "Do you have a plan?"

"Maybe... but it'll be difficult."

"Better than nothing. Let's hear it, lass."

She sent him a wry grin. "You're going to need to get as far back in those shadows as possible so they don't see you. I'm going to be luring them over here, hopefully one at a time, so you can slice them to pieces."

He looked at her in alarm. "You can't be serious."

"We don't have a lot of other options," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "We could try going in there and fighting them as a group, but I'm not very good at close range, and you've got daggers."

"What's wrong with my daggers?" he asked, affronted.

Ariana laughed. "They're great for assassinations, I'll give you that much. They're terrible if you're actually fighting someone with a sword. We have to work with what we've got."

"Can't you just Shout at them?"

"Sure, I could," she agreed, "but Draugr recover quickly, and there's a lot of them. Plus, there's no guarantee I'd catch them all in the blast."

"Let's get this over with then," he said with an air of resignation. "See you in Oblivion."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brynjolf," she replied drily, pushing the door in front of her fully open.

He pressed himself back into the darkness, hearing the guttural cries of the Draugr as Ariana executed them. The scent of dirt and rot hit his nostrils as one of the withered undead stepped out into the corridor, its empty eye sockets glowing an unearthly blue as it looked around. Another of Ariana's arrow made it stagger, and it turned to face the threat, giving Brynjolf the perfect opportunity to strike. His blades cleaved through the creature, sending it tumbling to the ground in a heap.

She rejoined him behind the door with an approving nod, sending another arrow into the cavernous burial chamber.

He jumped back, swearing as a bolt of lightning sparked off the floor where Ariana had been standing moments before, leaving the smell of scorched magika in its wake. The undead were close on the heels of the spell, three jostling their way through the door at once. Brynjolf pressed himself further back against the wall, sending a querulous look over at Ariana.

Her first shot lodged itself into the Draugr that was closest to her, the force of the arrows impact sending its ungainly body into the other two creatures. Her second shot missed, nearly hitting Brynjolf as two undead rushed towards her.

Brynjolf stepped forward to help, but stopped as she released a Shout strong enough to fling her assailants down the corridor to land at his feet. The words became a visible shape in the air, creating a bubble of sound that ricocheted off the floor into the creatures, continuing through and above them to bounce off the roof over his head. He knelt, and his daggers dug through sinew and bone, quickly dispatching the creatures.

The echo of her Shout reverberated off the walls of the burial chamber and Brynjolf could hear the raspy moans as more creatures rose from their eternal slumber, attracted by the noise. He exchanged a look with Ariana, who gestured violently that he get out of sight. He had barely moved back into the protection of the darkness when the stinking creatures appeared in the doorway.

There were dozens of them, armor tarnished, rusted blades drawn, skin rotting from dried bones. They swarmed together, far too many to take on one at a time. Across the crypt, Ariana drew in a deep breath, standing taller, and Brynjolf clapped his hands over his ears, preparing for the coming Shout.

"**FUS RO DAH!**" Instead of Ariana's clear voice, the words were carried on a raspy rush of air, forced past vocal cords that were little more than strips of dried leather.

The impact of the Draugr's Shout threw the Imperial backward, slamming her into the unforgiving stone walls of the burial chamber, and sending the other Draugr spinning like rag dolls. The sound reverberated along the hall, making Brynjolf's ears ring, but he was blessedly out of range of the full brunt of the Shout.

The Nord sent another Draugr to Oblivion, stretching on his toes to see Ariana, his body taut in the darkness. She pushed herself up from the ground, and he could see her arms shaking from the effort. She was moving too slowly. The armored undead were almost upon her and he knew he had to act quickly.

Brynjolf slit the throat of the nearest Draugr as he ran toward where she was struggling to reach her bow. She was moving too slowly, and he was too far away. There were too many of them. He wasn't going to reach her in time.

Ariana looked up past the undead to meet his eyes, and instead of fear he saw a look of realization. She opened her mouth, and he didn't recognise the words, but she was up on her feet, faster than he had ever seen anyone move. The Draugr were down before he heard the bowstring's twang, and he shook himself out of shock, his blades ripping their way through leathery skin as he fought his way to the Imperial.

The quarters were tight, and more than once Brynjolf found himself smashed back against the wall with bruising force, barely avoiding the axe or sword that came swinging at him next. His assailant suddenly toppled to the ground, the fletching of one of Ariana's arrows clearly visible in the side of the creature's head. There was no time to thank her, as another Draugr quickly took the first's place, and the Nord had to roll out of the way of its heavy strike.

After what felt like an eternity, Brynjolf wrenched his daggers out of a limp corpse, and found no others to take its place. Panting and bruised, he came to Ariana's side as she slid down to the base of a wall.

"You alright, lass?"

"I'm fine," she groaned, wiping blackened ichor from her armor and eyeing it with disgust. "I don't think my armor will ever be the same though."

He chuckled, dropping down to sit beside her to rest for a moment. "You can get new armor."

"That's not the point," she grumbled in exasperation, still wiping away slime. He watched as she summoned her healing spell, her eyes fixed on the golden ball she held in the palm of her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she released the spell and sighed in relief as tendrils of light wrapped around her, sagging back against the wall.

They sat side by side in silence for a moment before Ariana turned to look at him. "Are you alright?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "No permanent damage."

She narrowed her eyes, finger coming up to his cheek. "You're bleeding." Before he could protest, she had already cast the spell, easing away the pain he hadn't even been aware of.

He shook his head with an amused smile. "And you're stubborn."

The Imperial climbed to her feet, dusting herself off and offering him her hand. "Come on, we're not done yet."

Taking her hand, Brynjolf rose from the floor. Pacing behind Ariana, they passed the heap of corpses and into the cavernous room beyond. He took a moment to look around for additional enemies, but the room seemed empty, their footfalls sounding loudly in his ears. The quiet was palpable, tension prickling at the back of his neck and he adjusted his grip on his daggers again.

Across the room at the top of a short flight of stairs was a closed door.

"This doesn't feel right, lass," he whispered.

She nodded, quickly glancing around the room. "Be ready."

He followed her up the stairs, standing off to the side while she worked on the lock. Her face was a picture of concentration, making delicate adjustments with her lockpick as she crouched in front of the door, listening to the faint sound of metal tumblers. Brynjolf watched as she turned the lock, almost to the point of opening, then stopped, moving the pick over the barest distance and turned the lock again. The practiced ease with which she manipulated the lock would leave seasoned professionals green with envy. With a soft click, the door opened and Ariana put away her lockpicks.

"Looks like Nocturnal favours you," he murmured.

The Imperial only shrugged, a slight flush appearing on her cheeks at his compliment. Bow already in her hands, she treaded carefully through the entrance into the next room. Sitting in the center on an ornate stone throne was the spectre of the Wolf Queen, Potema. The ghost could have been asleep, head lolling forward, and again Brynjolf felt the familiar stab of unease.

Eyes trained on the ghost, Ariana grabbed an arrow from her quiver and both thieves froze when she stepped on a dry bone, the cracking sound louder than any Shout. Potema rose from the chair, hand raised and casting a spell. Ariana and Brynjolf cursed in unison.

Behind them came the groaning sounds of Draugr, and Brynjolf turned to see the undead they had only just killed rising to their feet again. Glancing to Ariana, he saw she was already firing arrows at Potema.

"I'll get her. You take care of them!"

"Easy for you to say," he groused, but charged back down the stairs into the thick of the undead. Blades a flurry of motion, he cursed the vile necromancers who brought the Wolf Queen back to Skyrim. He ducked below an axe, the swing decapitating a Draugr that was moving up behind him. He brought his daggers up, dispatching the undead and turning to the next. He worked methodically, hoping that he was buying the Imperial enough time to take care of the unholy spectre.

Above him, he heard the crackle of lightning and Ariana's scream. Ripping his blades through the last of the Draugr, he looked up to see her hunkered at the top of the stairs, face pained, the Wolf Queen following closely behind.

"_Come little thing,_" the shade's voice was as cold as the crypt, seductive and dark. "_Serve me in death._"

"Never!" Ariana grit out, pulling out a dagger of her own and slicing at the ghost. Potema screamed in rage, bringing down a clawed hand towards the Imperial, magicka dancing from her fingertips. Before she could strike, Ariana Shouted, the power of her voice forcing the Queen backward. Pulling out an arrow, she let it fly, the impact causing the ghost to dissipate with an explosion of light.

Brynjolf was at her side as she let the bow clatter from her fingers, bracing herself on her hands and knees. He sat down on the top stair, slowly sheathing his daggers. "Is that it?"

"I think so," she panted, pushing herself back on her heels.

"I hope your reward is worth it." Ariana looked away sheepishly and Brynjolf's jaw sagged. "No reward? All that and there's **no **reward?"

He paused for a beat, shaking his head in disbelief. "We have really got to work on this hero business of yours, lass."


End file.
